


The Haunted Elevator

by thisloveisradiant



Category: K (Anime)
Genre: Character Death, Highschool AU, M/M, Mental Illness, Supernatural - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-01
Updated: 2015-05-29
Packaged: 2018-03-20 18:26:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 26,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3660618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisloveisradiant/pseuds/thisloveisradiant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>New transfer student Yata saw a ghost in the elevator which apparently was located in a school full of rumored dead cases. Thing can't be good...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

“I’m late, I’m late! Can’t believe I’m late! The teacher is gonna kill me!!”

Yata cursed loudly, running as fast as humanly possible without tripping on dirty snow or creating major accidents for the unlucky souls who had crossed his paths. So far he had only knocked down two boys, crashed into a cleaning worker, and tripped over a middle-aged teacher, nothing too serious. Or at least he hoped so.

Panting harshly, Yata tried his best to remember which class he was supposed to have right now. He was still new to the school and its schedule, having transferred here only a month ago, right before the winter semester. Math, right. Who was the bastard that put fucking _Math_ the first class in the morning in cold season? Oh right, the principal. Damn him.

Also damn him ten times to place his classroom in the fucking _tenth_ floor.

Yata sighed in frustration upon looking at the long staircase. He so not had the energy and time to torture himself over walking ten floors just to attend a math period. Yata hesitated for a good minute before making a short trip to the opposite end of the building, where a small dusty elevator presented. 

Yes, the school had an elevator, like any other multistory buildings should have. However, Yata had never seen anyone using it.  Every single one of his classmates prefer walking the stairs to standing anywhere near the lift. When Yata asked about the strange phenomenon, they just whispered hastily “Something scary is in there!” and left in a hurry. He’d been curious, though figuring it would be the best to follow the examples – nothing good ever came out of rumored spooky places.

But _fuck it_ , he was late, and the classroom was goddamn TEN FLOORS up high.

“I don’t even care anymore,” Yata pinched his nose and slammed the up button, feeling more than a little dead inside, ”I’ll punch the ghosts if I have to...”

The flickering red number decreased slowly one by one, implying that the elevator was going down from the twelfth floor. When the doors started opening, Yata couldn’t help but inhaling sharply, preparing himself for whatever was inside. Despite his confident announcement, he hadn’t been entirely sure that ghost could be punched yet.

To Yata’s surprise, the inside of the infamous haunted elevator was bright, cozy-looking, and actually occupied by a boy in the same school uniform. The strange boy was apparently sleeping, curling himself into a loose ball to fit comfortably in the narrow place, with his back pressing lightly to the wall at the back.

“Who in their right mind choose to sleep in an elevator of all places....?” Yata wondered out loud with disbelief dripping from each word. After a moment of recovering, the new transfer student hesitantly walked forward, wondering why on earth he suddenly felt the need to say “sorry for the intrusion”.  

Yata was about to hit the close button when he saw another man in suit walking hurriedly toward him. Being the nice kid, he held the door with a small welcome smile and an awkward wave. The gestures were politely returned by the man once he got in, though for some reasons accompanied by a confused expression.

“Which floor do you want to go, sir?”

“Thirteen, if you don’t mind.”

After pushing both the 10 and 13 buttons, Yata sighed and leaned back, staring at the sleeping boy behind him. He had a tall but thin frame, almost fragile looking. A major part of his face was hidden by long silky locks of dark blue hair and glasses, so Yata couldn’t have a good look.

“What a weird person...” Yata mumbled and sighed. He turned to the man with the intent to crack a joke about the situation, only to find himself being glared at intensely. The redhead flinched visibly upon realizing the lack of subject in his earlier comment, scared that it might be taken the wrong way.

“Oh no, not you, of course! I meant this freaky guy!” Yata pointed furiously at the other student in attempt to clear himself, not really minding the fact that he was being pretty rude to an unconscious stranger.

The man’s glare never wavered, if not becoming even more heated as he scowled. “What’s wrong with you? Not a damn thing is there!”

“W-W-What? But!” Yata turned his head around so fast he could hear the bones in his neck cracking in protest. “He’s here! Lying right here, asleep! Can’t you see him?”

The boy was indeed there. He responded to the noise Yata was making with a small sleepy “Hm...”, and shifted lightly to lay flat on his back, still deep in his slumber.

“I see nothing but thin air”, the man squinted unfocusedly at the general direction that Yata was pointing, “Are you trying to pull my legs, lad?”

“No, I...” No way. _Holy Shit!_ Yata was stunned speechless, eyes widening as he stared at the sleeping boy in bewilderment. _Don’t tell me he’s the fucking elevator’s ghost!? Wait, even the dead needs sleep?_

Yata gulped loudly as he kneed to the ground to examine the possibly supernatural creature _. But he doesn’t look like a ghost at all!_ The hair was out of the way so Yata had a full view of his face this time. The (supposedly) spirit had smooth, milky but a little pale skin, like someone who didn’t get much sun kisses. His head was tilted back a bit, showing a slender, elegant neck just above the partially exposed high collarbones. Long eyelashes could be seen clearly even behind the askew thick-framed glasses, thin rosy lips parted slightly, letting out cute quiet breaths.

What a beautiful ghost, Yata absentmindedly thought. He was so lost in wonderment that he didn’t notice the lift had already stopped for a few seconds.

“Why does it stop at tenth floor...?” The man’s mutter made Yata jumped out of his skin – he totally forgot he was not alone. _Shit!_ He forgot he was on the way to class too!

“Ah! It’s my floor! Thank you sir!” The student all bout bounced out and broke into a run, not wanting to waste any seconds. He faintly heard the man saying something again, but he really didn’t have time to pay attention.

He was ten minute late already, and his teacher was one scary old hag who would literally haunted him in his dreams for the rest of his life. Even if he was going to be haunted, he’d much prefer a prettier one.

Pretty...like...that ghost earlier.

“What. Wait. What the actual fuck am I thinking!”

Needless to say Yata couldn’t get a word of his lessons into his head the whole day. The memory kept coming back and stirred a weird feeling in his stomach. Countless questions swirled nonstop in his mind like a raging typhoon. He even decided to skip eating in lunch break and buried himself in thoughts, which was a rare event that had happened only three times in his entire 16 years of living.

Who exactly was that guy? Why was he in the elevator? How long had he been there? Was he an evil spirit or just a lingering soul? He looked harmless enough, but the rumor did state “something scary”, and he had been sleeping so it was really hard to tell. Again, why did a ghost need sleep? And he was even breathing!

But the most important thing was...

“Why the heck could I see him?” Yata muttered in complete confusion, suddenly feeling a strong urge to bang his head against the table. It would hurt, yet he was having a headache anyway so a little more hurt wouldn’t hurt, right?

It didn’t make any sense at all, but Yata smashed his head down anyway.  

“It’s totally insane. Does this mean I have spiritual power or something? But I’d never seen a ghost before...I think? He looked perfectly solid though...Argh! I don’t get it!”

“What’s wrong, Yata-san? You look troubled. Are you upset about your punishment for being late?” Yata looked up to see his classmate, Kamamoto, peering down with concerned eyes while stuffing himself with two breads at the same time. Because nobody wanted to walk down to the canteen in the first floor, almost everyone brought their own lunch and ate in the classrooms.

“Don’t remind me...That heartless teacher actually gave me a full week detention. What’s wrong with her? I was late for 10 minutes and then BAM! I have to waste 100 minutes afterschool every day for fucking 7 days!!”

“It can’t be help, though. Somehow it has become a tradition. You know our school is pretty strict.”

The redhead groaned, resisting the need to hit someone hard, preferring the school principal. “This kind of tradition would drive someone insane soon.”

“Yeah, I heard that some seniors and teachers really have to quit school due to mental illnesses. The rumors have it that there’re even some murder cases inside the school. Of course nothing has been confirmed yet, so the myth is still the myth. ” Kanamoto shrugged nonchalantly as if he was talking about the weather, already on his way to eat the third bread.

“That’s...scary”, The new transfer student shuddered, then widened his eyes when he thought of something, “Wait, murders _inside_ the school?”

“It just a non-based chain-telling, don’t worry! I think this school is built on an old battlefield so people like to scare newcomers with that twisted joke.”

“But...there may be a chance that the school has many, I don’t know, dead people...?” Yata felt shaken to the core. What the hell. He should really, really researched more about this damn school before moving in.

“You mean ghosts? Well actually nothing seems out of ordinary, besides the elevator. People say it has a chilling aura of some sort, but that may be just the broken air-louver.” The blonde laughed smugly, biting his fourth bread as if he was starving. “Like I said, everything is chit-chat material, don’t sweat it!”

 _Don’t sweat it my ass! I saw a ghost in that very elevator which apparently is located in a school full of rumored dead cases!_ Yata bit his lower lip hard to prevent himself from yelling all his thoughts out loud.

“Then why don’t you use it? You don’t believe the myth but you choose to walk anyway?”

“...Ahahaha! I will gain weight if I don’t work out! Ha. Ha. Ha” Kanamoto’s nervous laughter was accompanied by the tearing sound of the fifth bread’s package.

“...Right.”

So that’s how it was. Maybe he should follow his classmates and never set a foot on that lift again. However there was something unsettling about the whole deal. Like, what people mean by “chilling atmosphere”? He could swear the elevator was nicer and warmer than his own department. And hadn’t a man actually used it with ease? Was it because the ghost had been sleeping so he couldn’t stir trouble? So many unsolved questions...

Despite the promised horror of the situation, Yata still wanted to see seek the answers from the spirit. Dead people couldn’t be that bad, right?

And it wasn’t like he just wanted to see the beautiful ghost once more time or anything. _Nope._

\----------------------------------

 “Alright, the moment of truth.” Yata mumbled nervously, index finger hovering the down button. He had just finished his detention, which was a total torture by the way, and now he was left in the deserted school while the sun had almost set. A perfect situation for a school-setting horror movie, but goddamn it, he just couldn’t give up his curiosity.

Yata glanced at the red number thirteen and chuckled. Maybe no one had used the lift after that man in the morning. However he was proven wrong right at that moment, as the number suddenly jumped down to twelve. Breathing deeply to encourage himself, Yata hit the button with a tad too much force than necessary.

The elevator’s doors opened immediately, making the redhead jump up an inch in surprise. He didn’t expect it to be that fast!

Holding his breath, Yata carefully peered inside. A young blond man was standing near the control panel and the dark blue haired boy was sitting at the back right corner. Both of them looked as startled as Yata, if not much more – like he wasn’t supposed to have the right to use the lift at all.

“Oh? It’s rare to see such a young kid here!” The man smiled lightly, his eyes softened in an almost sympathetic way. The rumor must be stronger than Yata thought, for that reaction might or might not imply that no student had been using this elevator at all. It also confirmed that the man could not see the ghostly boy in uniform right behind him.

 _Well, whatever._ Yata mentally shrugged and strolled in as if he owned the place. He noticed that no button on the control panel was lightened up, so he chose the first floor while glancing at the blond man, assuming that they had the same destination. He was greeted with a cheerful smile and a nod, which more or less confirmed his guess.

So people still used the lift all the times, like this guy and the man in suit this morning. Figured...only the kids were scared by the rumors and the adults actually gave no shit.

Yata felt a little nervous upon realizing he had been stared at by a pair of piercing glacial eyes from behind the entire time. This feeling must be the “chillness” that people often referred to, if the ghost stared at everyone like this. Keeping his eyes straight forward, Yata figured it’d be best to pretend he couldn’t see ghost when there were normal people around. After all, he didn’t want to look like a madman who appeared to look at nothing and talk to himself in public.

“Are you new?” The question was voiced by both the man and the other boy at the same time, making Yata fidget involuntary.

“Yes. I’ve just transferred to this school a month ago.” He tried his best to not look back as he nodded slowly toward the older stranger.

“Oh... You’re pretty unlucky neh? It’s alright, everything will work out somehow! My name is Totsuka Tatara, by the way!”

Yata smiled. This Totsuka sure was the happy-go-lucky type. “I’m Yata. Nice to meet you.”

A soft noise, which suspicious sounded like a tongue clicking, could be heard from the back. “No one asks your name.”

...What an attitude. Yeah, Totsuka didn’t really ask his name, but it was only polite to reply like that after receiving a self-introduction. Yata scowled but didn’t move or say anything.

“Yata...?” Totsuka tilted his head, an amused smile danced on his lips.

“Mi...” Ugh. How he hated his girly name. “Yata Misaki.”

Again, the ghost clicked his tongue. “Tsk. Who cares about your name? But really, Mi-sa-ki, huh?”

 _So annoying! I’m not even talking to you!_ Yata gritted his teeth, trying to keep his temper in check. _Don’t think you can insult people just because you’re a ghost and nobody can hear or see you!_

“Hurry up and get out. Don’t you know that this elevator is haunted? Even if you’re new here, you should hear people gossip about it left and right.” Yata felt, rather than heard, that the cold voice was getting closer to his nape. Totsuka was saying something, but Yata’s ears only caught the sound of his own crazily fast pumping veins and the quiet breaths right behind him.

The low voice continued to drawl dangerously. “So...Don’t come back here, neh? Who knows when the ghost will jump out? A shortie like you...may become an _easy victim_ , don’t you think so ~?”

So that was how he shooed people away. The ghost himself might look like an normal boy (okay, more like a handsome teenage celebrity...), but the sheer presence of his created a heavy pressure, conflicting with the seemingly cozy air within the elevator. People who couldn’t see what was happening had every right to be frightened.

Yata barely noticed Totsuka stepping toward him with a concerned expression. “Are you okay, Yata? You look...unwell. Is there something wrong?”

At the same time, the shadow behind Yata moved forward with an irritated “Tsk. Hey, are you ignoring me?”

To know a person was a ghost and to see him in action was totally different experiences. Yata’s heart suddenly leaped to his tightened throat as he saw Totsuka went _right through_ the scowling dark haired boy. It felt surreal and, to a certain degree, ridiculous, because both of them looked perfectly solid but somehow managed to intermingle, like a visual error in a 3D game.

And it was _scary as fuck._

Before Yata could utter a word, the elevator stopped with a small “ding”, doors immediately opened. He sucked a large gulp of air through both his nose and mouth, and forced himself to smile at the blonde – involuntary the ghost too, since they were practically existing in the same space.

_Scary. Way too scary. Terrifying! Holy crap, I need time to get over this! Mission aborted!_

“N-No, nothing, nothing at all! Look, it’s the first floor already! L-Let’s go.” Yata all but jumped outside as he tried his best to act as normal as possible. If his voice trembled, Totsuka didn’t comment on it and simply walked out.

Right before the doors closed, Yata heard an annoyed mutter of “what the fuck” inside of the elevator.

 _What the fuck indeed._ Yata sighed, realizing that not only he didn’t get any information to conquer his curiosity about the myth, but also he probably didn’t leave a good first impression with both the ghost and Totsuka. Speaking of which, who was Totsuka anyway? He looked too young to be a proper teacher, so he might be an assistant in training or a part-timer.

“Totsuka - san, what are you doing in school this late?”

Cold winds met his question. Yata glanced back, only to find the blond man had already gone without a trace.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

“I give up.” Yata slammed his laptop shut, rubbing his eyes furiously to chase the sleepiness away. “There’s not a damn single bad thing about Ashinaka high school on the Internet.”

True enough, he had searched for hours starting from the very moment he had come home, but he hardly found any useful piece of information. Everyone praised Ashinaka to the clouds, such as “It’s the best high school in Japan”, “It provides a great environment for education”, and “Omg I’m so proud my son finally got into Ashinaka!!!!!”. A brief research on the history of both the school and the city had Yata figure that the whole deal with being built on an old battlefield thing was totally a fraud. No crime or shady stuff was reported. Clean records. Perfect reputation.

 _Heh. Could have fool me._ Yata was no genius, but even the stupidest person on earth should know that there was no such thing so _perfect._ If anything, it suggested that the school had absolutely strong influence on medias and was fully capable of kept its dark side well hidden.

Sighing loudly, the redhead let himself fall face first into the sheet. Thinking and reading were not his strongest suits, or even his suits for that matter, so he felt way more exhausted than running a 10km marathon.

Despite being threatened directly by the ghost, The redhead didn’t want to give in just like that – blame it on his infamous stubbornness and curiosity. Furthermore, now that he thought back about the incident clearly, outside the disturbance of seeing the...body mixing phase, nothing had really happened. As cold as the ghost’s voice had sounded, his provocation had slightly leaned on the side of mischievousness, if not rather childish.

And a little lonely too, somehow. Like a child who was so good at playing hide-and-seek and was torn between wanting to be found and getting angry at being found.

“I still want to talk to him.” Yata murmured to himself while setting his alarm clock an hour earlier than normal. “There has to be a reason why only I can see him, like I’m the chosen one! A hero! Haha!. And hell will freeze before I turn down challenge this interesting!”

With that in mind, Yata drifted to sleep with a triumphal smile.

He didn’t, however, expect to get a nightmare.

_He was standing on a rooftop. The sky was pitch dark, flickering bloody moon loomed dirty patches of light on the ground. The inky-black clouds seemed to crush the whole ghastly city. The wind screamed, and lashed at him at a haughtily tantalizing manner._

_Someone was crying. Someone was laughing. Screaming. Cursing. Whispering. Mocking. Gasping. Yelling. So noisy, so irritating, so suffocating. All he wanted was for the noises to stop. Get lost. Be gone. Disappear._

_Loud noises rang the air and his vision blurred. It hurt. Black, then white, then red and golden and blue and dark, dark red on opalescent white. It hurt. It hurt where it shouldn’t be._

_“Why?”, he refused to acknowledge that his own voice was trembling violently, “Why!” It hurt. It hurt, and he franticly thought no, no, no! It wasn’t right. It should only hurt in another way, the way he preferred, not this. This couldn’t happen._

_“I’m sorry...Fushimi. I know you wish for it...to be different. But...” A whisper, almost inaudible. “But...”_

_It hurt. It hurt. It hurt. It hurt. It hurt. He screamed. It hurt so bad. He didn’t want it, this kind of pain. So bad, so bad, it shouldn’t be this way._

_The laughter eased. Someone was calling him. Someone was pulling him up, yanking him away. The sudden change of position was unbearable – late, too late, no hope of fixing thing now. Even so, he tried to leap forward, to set everything on the right track, to change their fates somehow. But he couldn’t, his strength was slipping and the weight around his torso was too strong to escape._

_The last things he saw was a pair of sad, sad violet eyes, and a flash of blood tainted black coat._

_And then the darkness drowned all his senses._

Yata shrieked deafeningly, eyes shooting open in horridness, hands gripping the sheet like it was his lifesaver to the point his knuckles turned white. Panting heavily, the redhead quickly glanced around the room to make sure that he was Yata himself – fine, alive, certainly not hurt and dying, in his own room just sleeping – to confirm that it was merely a nightmare.

He knew it wasn’t, though. There was no way he could dream up something like that. It felt too real to be a fraction of his imagination – in fact, the unsettling dream seemed to be almost like...a blurred remembrance. He barely recalled the negative feelings and incomprehensible thoughts that swirled around his head in the nightmare, but he knew they were definitely someone else’s. His guts was telling him that. Yata had pride in his instinct for a good reason.

If that was the truth, he could only think of one person who could possibly be the rightful owner of the disturbing piece of memory.

\-----------------------------------------------

 “What have I gotten myself into...?” groaned Yata as he stood in front of the elevator one hour before first class began. “Involving into a ghost’s business, getting his right-before-death memory of some sorts. Yet still coming back for more. If I were my own mom I’d hit me hard.”

The lift opened instantly when Yata pushed the button, given the fact that it was on the first floor. No one but the ghost was inside, once again sleeping.

The new student sighed loudly. Should have guess.

Choosing a comfortable spot beside the unconscious spirit, he examined the other carefully. Nothing about him seemed different from yesterday, or different from normal people on that matter. Yet, Yata couldn’t help but feel attracted to him. Something was so captivating about this mysterious ghost that kept the new student watching him intensely for god knew how long.

Yata was tempted to touch him, just a brief one, to know how it would feel to touch an actual soul. He was already raising his hand when suddenly azure eyes blinked open slowly.

“Er...g-good morning?” Yata greeted purely on reflex, ending his word uncertainly while staring straight into the other’s eyes.

The ghost gazed back in confusion for a long moment before clicking his tongue and narrowing his eyes. “Tsk. Even though I told you not to comeback. So what, you can see me now?”

“Well...sorry for yesterday. I don’t know why but I actually can see you just fine.” Scratching his nape, Yata nervously replied.

“Hah?”

“Uhm, yeah, hard to believe right? I never know I can see ghosts before seeing you!”

“Hahhhh?”

Were that drawl and twitching eyebrows meant to be sarcasm? Or was it surprise? Though Yata admitted he wasn’t an expert at reading the atmosphere.

“I know you’re the elevator ghost or whatever your preferred status is. Say, it’s not everyday you find someone who can see you, is it? So let’s be friend!”

The linger soul looked at Yata blankly, like he wasn’t sure what the heck had just happened. Then, very slowly, a crooked smirk formed on his lips, as he announced in a low, eerie demonic voice while getting dangerously closer to Yata’s face.

“How convenient, just in time for me to find a more suitable _host body._ ”

Shit.

 _“_ W-W-Wait!ARGH!!! NO!” Yata fumbled backward with shocked wide eyes, hitting his rear painfully on the wall. He crossed his hands in defensive pose, ignoring the way they quivered quite pathetically. “Don’t you dare! Go away evil ghost!! ”

The dark haired boy stared owlishly for another long five seconds before he turned away and snickered into the back of his hand, shoulders trembling lightly.

“Heh, kidding.”

“You – wha, what?”

“Honestly, for someone claiming he wants to be friend with a ghost, you’re more of a scaredy-cat than I thought. Mi – sa – ki, if I remember it right, neh?”

“...You have a really bad personality, don’t you. Was you this way when you were alive too?” Yata scowled. “Give me your name so I can insult it back.”

“Tsk, that’s not a proper way of asking. Anyway, I’m under no obligation of declaring my name to an idiot like you.”

“Who the fuck are you calling an idiot, you stupid idiot?”

“Your poor vocabulary proves me right.”

“I’m asking your goddamned name, not playing scrabble! Why are you being difficult about it?”

The spirit gave a low chuckle and glanced away. He seemed to be hesitant and spaced out, biting his lips as if he was having an unpleasant flashback.

Unsure of what to say to break the sudden awkward silence, Yata scratched his head nervously. Something nagged at Yata’s mind, telling him that actually there was no need to ask. He already knew this poor boy’s name. Somewhere...somewhere...

_“I’m sorry...Fushimi. I know you wish for it...to be different. But...” A whisper, almost inaudible. “But...”_

That’s it. The dream.

“Say, is your name Fushimi?”

Blue eyes snapped back to bore themselves into Yata’s, bewilderment and disbelief brimming all over.

“How did you know _that_?” He gritted out, like his own name was a spiteful enemy.

The redhead didn’t expect this strong reaction. What should he say now? I got a piece of your memory through my dream? It sounded way too cliché.

“I...I’ve asked around.” Yata reluctantly replied with the most trustable lie he could think of.

“Nonsense. Tsk. There’s no way you could dig it out by asking people _Hey, what’s the elevator ghost’s name?_ or something equally stupid.” The soul, apparently Fushimi, accused with a hostile undertone, head hanging low.

Harsh. But that was a valid point.

Yata was about to give up and spill the truth when the doors abruptly opened and a tired looking Totsuka stumbled in.

“Totsuka-san!” Yata yelled, making both Totsuka and Fushimi looked up instantaneously.

The older man raised an eyebrow. “Yata? Why are you sitting here alone? The elevator isn’t even moving.”

Fushimi looked stunned, then breathed out a self-mocking smirk. “I see. You relate to Totsuka someway. Make senses. Should have guess.”

Yata stood up and smiled toward Totsuka to pretend that he wasn’t casually chilling with a ghost. What Fushimi had just said made him beyond confused, though. Did these two know each other?

“Time to ignore me again?” A click of tongue.

_Sorry...Can’t risk letting someone think I’m insane._

Yata glanced at Totsuka. The man chose thirteenth floor and leaned onto the wall, spacing out like nobody’s business. His eyes clouded in an unfocused haze, the aura around him was one of disoriented restlessness.

Exactly the same as Fushimi right then, who was curling his knees up and laying his eyes on the ground.

The ginger wrecked his head to find something to break the uncomfortable silence, but failed miserably. He sighed and looked at his PDA in attempt to distract himself, only to startle and yelp loudly.

“Shit! I forget about the class!” He all but slammed the number 10 button and swayed on his feet like he was on pins and needles. Only five minutes until the class began! He wouldn’t want another detention.

“You have classes?” Totsuka asked in an oddly surprised voice.

“Yes, I’m gonna be late! Again!”

The blond man tilted his head, looking Yata up and down.

“Ah. I get it.” He held his chin thoughtfully. “Despite your look, you’re the really studious type?”

Yata couldn’t tell if he was being made fun of or not. “Ugh...not really?”

“Misaki. I’m afraid that you have a big problem with your brain. Please shut up.” Fushimi clicked his tongue, scowled flippantly.

_You shut up._

“Are you being modest? I don’t get that vibe from you though.” Totsuka appeared to be deep in thought, still staring at Yata unblinkingly. After a while, his eyes widened a bit and let out a little gasp. “I see. Interesting.”

Yata felt like he should pay more attention, still the terrifying panic of being punished for being late again prevented him from dwelling too much on whatever Totsuka or Fushimi was saying. The moment the doors move apart, he broke into a run, though not forgetting to bid a brief goodbye.

The redhead was saved by a hair – he walked into the class a step ahead of the teacher, literally. God had mercy on his soul.

“Good grief, Yata – san, I thought you wouldn’t make it!”

“Shut your trap, Kamamoto...”

\--------------------------------------------------

Yata decided he needed to investigate Fushimi’s case by asking around for real. The nightmare – no, memory -  kept haunting him. He couldn’t help but wanting to know more, to help the ghost somehow.

“Kamamoto, do you know anything about a student in this school named Fushimi?”

“You must be more specific than that, Yata – san. A lot of people have Fushimi as their family name.” The fatty responded with a confused expression.

“Er – ugh, he is rather tall and thin, has dark blue hair and pale blue eyes, wears glasses, and had a really rude personality.”

“That sounds weirdly familiar”, Kamamoto rubbed his chin, pretending to be an information broker, “I think I know someone fits your description, but I’m not entirely sure.”

“Quit playing around and give me a clear answer already!” Yata was getting excited.

“Our class used to have a student named Fushimi Saruhiko, actually. He was a relatively quiet guy, a loner at heart, so no one knew much about him. I didn’t either.”

“He used to be in our class? What happened to him?”

“I heard Fushimi transferred to another school half a year ago.”

To say Yata was shocked was an understatement. “.....What?” _Just transfer? What_. Was the guy Kamamoto was talking about not Fushimi the ghost after all. “Didn’t he die?”

Kamamoto pursed his lips. “Don’t talk ill, Yata –san. You heard the bad rumors about him, didn’t you?”

 “Are you talking about Fushimi - kun?”

Both the redhead and the blonde startled as a soft, girly voice chimed in above their heads. They looked up to see their monitor, Yukizome Kukuri, smiled down at them.

Yata’s first reaction was to blush to his ears. The second one was to hide behind Kamamoto and panic.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you!”

“N-n-no, it’s alright, I-I’m just, ugh, surprise, that’s all.” Damn it, he just couldn’t bring himself to not being embarrassed when a girl was near.

“Anyway, I overheard that Yata – kun wanted to know about Fushimi – kun, so I thought I should provide you some correct information! The rumors were all over the places but don’t you believe them!” Kukuri sat down at a nearby chair, careful not to invade Yata’s quite big personal space that applied only for girls.

“Wait a minute. I didn’t hear anything about him. What are the rumors about?”

Yata had street wisdom, for him being a rebellious reckless guy and everything, to at least have a knack that rumors tended to have hidden truth in them than formal published news. The elevator ghost thing was an outstanding evidence.

Kamamoto helpfully supplied “Fushimi suddenly stopped coming to school from the last summer. Thus, people make up various stories about him. Some say he transferred to an exclusive school for geniuses. Other say he was expelled.”

“That’s right. However, the majority claims him to be dead, for a thousand reasons. It ranges from rare illness, traffic accident to being killed by underground gangsters. They’re so cruel to make up something like that.” Kukuri continued with sorrowful tone.

“But as the class’s monitor, I was informed about his situation! The teacher said that Fushimi – kun had gone study abroad in Germany because he received a special scholarship!”

“I won’t be surprised if everything was an excuse for him to not go to school and just hide somewhere chilling.”

“Very funny, Kamamoto – kun. In my opinion, I think he went without a word because he didn’t like being fawned over, or he just hated us.”

“That sounds like Fushimi.” Kamamoto laughed out loud, “He was such an anti-social guy.”

 _Well, in this case, the rumors held the truth alright. Fushimi really was dead. Most likely even being killed in a rooftop._ The teachers must hide the truth and change it to fake information. As he thought, this Ashinaka school was shady as hell. Yata briefly thought back about what Kamamoto had said yesterday – _there might be murder inside the school._

“Do you guys talk to Fushimi’s friends to confirm it? His friends may know about his whereabouts better.”

“I don’t know if he even had friends. He always did everything alone and pushed people away. Back then...sometime I felt like he was never really there, like he would just simply disappear into thin air when no one pay attention.” Kukuri sighed as he looked sadly at the seat in the left corner in the back, her voice turned soft, almost reduced to a whisper. “Then just like that, he really had gone.”

Yata turned around to see where Kukuri was looking too. Fushimi’s seat was occupied by another boy, but for a flitting moment, Yata swore that he saw a dark blue haired figure sitting there playing with his PDA with an apathetic expression.  

He was yanked back to reality when Kamamoto snapped his hand. “Oh, but if my memory serves me right, Fushimi had a guardian and he used to be in a club, right?”

“Ah, yes. He joined a club called Homra, which led by Mikoto – sensei, when he was 14, I read it somewhere in his profile, though the club was disbanded half a year ago. It seemed to be a private club, so I don’t know much. About his guardian, I believe he is the head teacher of Literature department, Munakata – sensei.”

Yata perked up, eyes shone with excitement. Mikoto – sensei was his favorite teacher from the very first day Yata transferred, having him involved in this case was such an interesting coincidence. He didn’t know about the other teacher, though. Well, more leads and clues made a boy happy.

“Kukuri! Please direct me to this Munakata – sensei!”


	3. Chapter 3

Truthfully, Yata had wanted to find Mikoto – sensei first ( _his cool awesome hero!)_ However the teacher wasn’t on duty until three days more. He had no choice but to go to Munakata – sensei first, who would come to school tomorrow.

With sweet free time in hand, Yata spent the evening after his detention to talk to Fushimi – or to the ghost’s declaration: annoy the shit out of him. Their so-called bonding conversational time was mostly Yata ranting about nothing and everything and Fushimi clicking his tongue and complaining. Every once in a while Yata would ask personal things about Fushimi, but the glasses-wearing boy skillfully dodged the important questions and picked the harmless ones to answer. Such as “I like nothing. Books and technical stuff come close, though they’re not necessary my objects of affection.” and “why do you even need to ask such pointless thing as my favorite color? All colors are the same. Boring.”

There were several times people came into the elevator. Two old men, a middle-aged one hand disable woman and a pale skinny boy. Each time Yata had to scrambled to his feet and put on his best “act-natural” pose. Thank God no one spoke a word, just looked at him like he was an alien. Fushimi either mocked him for being crazy stupid or sat quietly with sulky pouted lips. It was actually kind of adorable.

The chit chat was cut short right when the redhead mentioned Totsuka out of curiosity, and the other boy startled and began to curl himself up, mumbling “He’s just an annoying guy who likes jumping onto other people’s business. If you’re here for Totsuka’s sakes, then you’re wasting your time.”

_So these two really had a history. Too bad Totsuka couldn’t see him anymore..._

Fushimi refused to say anything after that, except for “Hurry up and get out already”, much to Yata’s completely confusion. It was getting late so after a few more attempts to stir up another conversation in vain, Yata regrettably deemed it was time to leave. Arguably they’d only met few times but the attachment was ridiculous, almost like a magnet – Yata felt like there was an insistent physical force pull him to the gloomy spirit – and he was very reluctant to say goodbye.

The redhead got terribly excited when he went to bed that night, expecting another tell-tale dream. However, in the slumber he saw nothing but the total darkness surrounding him. Something he could hear faint laughs from somewhere faraway, but that was it, nothing more. Yata doubted it even had a meaning. He wasn’t even sure if it was supposed to be a dream – for all he knew, he might just have a dreamless sleep.

Nonetheless, Yata had no reason to be upset about not getting a piece of blurred memory when he was going to meet Fushimi’s guardian.

According to Kukuri, Munakata was an elite 25 year old Japanese literature teacher who had been teaching in Ashinaka high school for three years. He was the most second popular man within the school, teachers and students alike. He was excellent in his teaching profession, but the students were as wary of him as they respect him. Not that he was unreasonably strict or anything, it just seemed very difficult to be around him – he had a kind of superhuman ability of observing people for his own amusement and playing mind tricks with everyone.

 _Sounded like an unpleasant smartass._ How fitting for someone like that to be the guardian of a mysterious, irritating ghost.  

During the self-study period in the afternoon, Yata sneaked his way into the literature department where Kukuri had set an appointment for Munakata and him beforehand. She said that when she had mentioned the reason for the meeting, the teacher had sounded kind of cautious and weary. “I never see Munakata – sensei lose his cool before. I heard Fushimi is an orphan and Munakata – sensei took him under his wings when he was 14. Maybe the separation with Fushimi – kun affects him more than I thought.” spoke Kukuri with a concerned expression.  

Yata knocked the door to signal his presence. “Munakata – sensei?”

“Enter, please.”

The redhead stepped inside the lounge, glancing around. The room was fairly large and bright, at the center placed a big square grey table surrounded by a dozen of chairs. Two filing cabinets stood proudly at the right sidewall. On the wall hang an elegant picture of a mountain filled with cherry blossoms.  

A refined – looking man with blue hair, long side bang, and slim glasses, assumed Munakata, was sitting at the middle on the right side of the table, playing an insane large jigsaw puzzle – must be at least five thousand pieces. His appearance was somewhat similar to Fushimi. One would expect they were siblings.

“You’re the one who wants to ask about Fushimi Saruhiko, correct?” Munakata smiled at him, but his eyes gleamed like a hawk. Yata’s primal instinct immediately recognized danger in them. He didn’t know why he was treated this way, but he wouldn’t back down nonetheless.

“Yes, that’d be me.” Yata nodded fiercely to show his fighting spirit, yet trying to be more or less polite. “Could you tell me something about him, please?”

The teacher picked a jigsaw piece and examined it, seemingly ignoring the teen for half a minute, making Yata gradually get annoyed. Little did he know that the man was watching him carefully from the corner of his eyes.

Munakata finally raised his voice. “Yata Misaki, 16 year old, new transfer student of class 10-B, enrolled in Ashinaka high school a month ago due to the divorce of your parents and change of living location. No record of crime but tend to have conflicts and get into fights.”

 _The fuck!? Creepy! Was this teacher a stalker or what._ “Why do you know all that!?”

“Hm”, The literature teacher hummed lightly and brushed him off. “May you light my curiosity as for why you need to approach the information about Fushimi – kun?”

Yata pursed his lips. For some reasons everything and everyone related to Fushimi had to be _so damn difficult_  Even though he admitted that people might be a little confused if a totally stranger suddenly asked about your deceased foster kid.

“No reason really. I just heard rumors about him and got really interested in his sudden disappearance.”

“Is that so? If that’s the case, I believe Yukizome – kun had informed you about Fushimi – kun’s special scholarship offer.” Munakata chuckled lowly, showing clear I-know-you’re-bullshitting-me attitude.

The redhead frowned. “I don’t buy that. No one receives such a good scholarship go away unnoticed that easily. Friends or other students aside, this school values reputation so much that I doubt the principal would slip that chance to promote Ashinaka. Yet I don’t see anything about it on mass media.”

Did he just say that. Did he just say something sounded so intelligent and logical. Honestly he didn’t even think that far, words just spilled out of his mouth. A pat in the back for Yata! He was so proud of himself. _Who is the idiot now, Fushimi?_

“I see. Impressive, even if it’s a wild guess.”

Munakata placed the jigsaw piece he was holding down, then walked toward Yata. His pleasant smile had gone, replaced by a grim face.

“I’d love to provide you with what you need, however, Fushimi - kun’s information was classified as a confidential by the school’s principal. I cannot give it to someone who doesn’t have the rightful access, nor I myself want to give it willingly to a stranger who have unclear connection with Fushimi – kun without further observation.”

 _Confidential? Bingo, something fishy was definitely going on here._ “What...what do you mean?”

Munakata lowered his head and got closer to the boy’s face as if he didn’t know what heck personal space meant. Even though his composed smile came back, his voice turned icy cold.

“I will never make that mistake again. Now, won’t you tell me what is your _true intention_ towards Fushimi Saruhiko?”

A chill ran through whole Yata’s body upon hearing these sharp words. He stuttered out without thinking, not even noticed that he was spilling the truth. “I-I swear I mean no harm! It’s probably fate or something but I just want to h-help, yeah, help him so he can go on – “

“Hey, Munakata, the report you want is ready.” The door abruptly busted open and a teacher with golden hair walked in, effectively interrupted Yata’s confession. Halting in mid step, the new comer stared at the scene, dumbfounded. “What are you even doing to a student?”

“Ah, Kusanagi – san, thank you for your trouble. You come just in time, actually.” Munakata leaned back, face calm as always, and gave an easy smile. He pushed Yata lightly on the shoulder so the boy bend toward a little. “This interesting boy here is asking me about Fushimi – kun.”

The blond man, Kusanagi, jointed and seemed to be completely shocked. He glanced at Yata with wide eyes and  twitching lips. “Are you used to be Fushimi’s friend?”

Munakata answered instead of Yata. “I believe it’s not the case. Yata – kun lived in Sapporo before coming here one month ago. As far as I know, Fushimi – kun and him have no relation. Apparently, he finds the rumors about Fushimi – kun enthralling and somehow insists he can help our dear boy go on, or whatever the word he was going to say.”

Kusanagi gawked at both the dark haired teacher and Yata for a moment, then sighed. “You totally call me here on purpose.”

“You’re too skeptical, Kusanagi – san. I really need your report. Such a coincidence sometime happens.”

“What do you want me to do now? You know we are supposed to never speak a word about what happened.”

Yata looked back and forth between the two older men, unsure of what to say but gradually getting pissed off at being ignored. “Tsk. What do the lot of you play mysterious for...”

Smiling and nodding to himself, Munakata placed a hand on Yata’s upper back and directed him to the blond man. “My, my, such a short-tempered, adventurous boy. Don’t you think he would fit to be a Homra member?”

Kusanagi tensed visibly, his face struggled to kept a composed facade. “Homra is no longer an active club. Membership recruitment was Totsuka’s job, anyway.”

“Oh I don’t know what is happening but I want to join! Mikoto – sensei is Homra’s president, right? I also want to meet Totsuka – san again, I think he’ll let me in easily enough.” Yata smiled brightly, recalling Totsuka as an easy-going man from their first meeting.

“You also know Totsuka?” Both the teachers asked with surprise voice.

“Well sort of...I met him just twice recently, though.”

The elder teacher gripped Yata’s arms and stared straight deep into his eyes, like he was desperately searching for something. The student blinked back in genuine confusion.

“Alright. Yata, isn’t it? I’ll take him.”

Yata winced inwardly as Kusanagi suddenly grabbed his wrist and pulled him along. They were almost out of the door when Munakata raised his voice again in a warning manner.

“Kusanagi – san, I trust you to not lose control over the situation no matter what this intriguing boy may bring. Our condition is not ideal for us to rush after a small piece of opportunity, should you forget what the consequences can be. For Fushimi’s sakes, and even Suoh’s, I suggest you solely make him a Homra member for the time being.”  

Kusanagi frowned, nodding as he replied curtly. “I understand. However, guiding him to us implies you’re getting impatient too.” He tugged the ginger again to leave without bidding a goodbye.

Yata let himself be led obediently, partly because he was wrecking his head to process all the vague information within the two teacher’s earlier dialogue. Which was unfortunately neither much nor helpful.

They were about to reach the staircases when Kusanagi halted abruptly on his track and sighed, like he just thought of something important, before turning back to Yata with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“I’m sorry to drag you around without your consent. You must be very confused.”

 _Damn right I am, h_ e scowled. “So what’s all this about? To be honest I don’t understand a single thing. I went to ask about Fushimi and then got pushed into a club. What even?”

“First thing first, my name is Kusanagi Izumo. I’m teaching Advanced English for the 12th grade students, and I’m also the vice – president of Homra.” Kusanagi raised a hand, to which Yata hesitantly shook, creeping out from the unnecessary politeness.

“I’m Yata Misaki. I guess I’ll be in your hands from now?” It was weird to suddenly be recruited in a club he had next to no knowledge of. _Well, Mikoto – sensei was there so it must be great by default. No complaints._

“Yes, but only after I confirm one thing.” The fingers curled around Yata’s hand tightened just a bit. Yata noted that they gave off the impression of a strong grip. “I want you to look straight into my eyes while answering it.”

“Is it an entrance test or something...”

The English teacher got down to Yata’s eyes level and asked with a low, dead serious voice. “Do you, by any means, work for, or relate to Colorless?”

Yata blinked. “Who the heck is Colorless?”

Kusanagi’s hazel orbs seemed to dig deep into his soul. Pushing his uncomfortable feeling down, Yata kept his gaze on firm line.

It felt like an eternity had passed until the blond man relaxed visibly, when in reality it was only three seconds. His shoulders relaxed visibly, eyebrows eased and his smile quickly reached the eyes. Still, the staring game didn’t stop.  

“Good, very good. Now I’ll go straight to the point. I believe that you get involved in this mess for a reason, and with your ability, you can definitely figuring it out sooner or later. Truthfully, I cannot provide you any confidential information regarding Fushimi and Totsuka because of certain awful conditions.”

The redhead nodded dumbly. Well, back to a square one.

Kusanagi grinned. “Or that’s what I’m supposed to say, anyway.”

Oh?

 _OH_.

“So, so ? What do you mean by that? Will you tell me about them?”

Kusanagi hushed him silent and slid a finger on his phone’s screen, choosing a name form the directory. “Ah, Mikoto? Get your ass over the bar. Now. And bring Anna with you too.”

A few seconds passed before Kusanagi sighed exasperatedly. “No, it’s not about Colorless, I haven’t found him yet. I’ll explain later, but we have a new member. A kid who claims he’s seen Totsuka and Fushimi recently. Yeah, you hear it right. Alright, see you later.”

Yata stared with face brimmed with hope and excitement, jumping up and down like a puppy. The English teacher glanced over him and sighed again. “Let’s go to Homra’s base. I’ll decide the limit of leaky information you’ll get after consulting Anna.”

\-------------------------------------------------------------

Apparently Homra’s base wasn’t located inside the school, but a street away.

Unlike any other clubrooms Yata’d ever seen, it was a grand Europe-styled bar with red and gold as its main theme. Despite its luxurious appearance, the inside of the bar actually gave off a warm, cozy feeling.

Yata jumped onto a high bar stool and swirled on it like hyperactive 5 year old child. Being a junior high student, he had never set a foot into a bar, so it was a whole new wonderful world to him. The sparkle glasses and wine bottles were like diamonds in his eyes, along with the elegant bar counter and the red couch at the corner.

Kusanagi poured two glasses or water and placed them on the counter, all the while keeping an eye to the door, waiting for his friend.

“Kusanagi – san, this bar is so cool! So cool! What kind of club is Homra, exactly?”

The older man chuckled. “On paper, I listed it as a supernatural phenomena study club.”

Yata raised an eyebrow. _Okay, I don’t know what I’m expecting, but that was certainly unexpected._

A small ding dong sound caught his attention, he turned his head to the door in time to greet Mikoto Suoh, the gym teacher Yata not so secretly admired.

“Mikoto – sensei!!!”

“Ah...” The man glanced at Yata lazily, looking like he could use a ten hour nap right at that moment. He flopped down onto the couch and finally talked. “Who are you?”

One might ask why such a person was Yata’s idol. The short answer was: _He’s so cool!._ The longer answer would be a ten-page essay about how the teacher looked like a red superhero, how manly he sounded and acted, how he made even the strongest rudest boys in the gym class behaved, how he literally let the students do whatever they wanted in gym as long as no accidents happened... on and on and on. On the second gym class, Yata’s affection toward Mikoto skyrocketed when the boy almost got a volleyball flied straight into his face if not for the teacher’s one hand block.

“I’m Yata! I’m your student, 10-B class!! Do you remember me?”

“...Hm.” Mikoto yawned nonchalantly, then looked over his right shoulder. “What’s wrong, Anna? Come in.”

Yata craned his neck to see a white-haired little girl in scarlet dress stood at the door. She was looking at Yata through a red marble, unblinkingly. The intense, odd stare made Yata fidget a little, although part of it was probably the result of his fear for girls.

Anna kept her gaze steady and her marble still in front of her right eye while slowly walking toward Yata. The student scratched his head and turned to the two men for rescue, only to find both of them quietly watched the little show with strange concentration.

The girl slowly shifted her line of sight to Mikoto, who just squinted a tiny bit in respond, then back to Yata again. She spoke softly after a few seconds.

“Mikoto,  light your red up, please.”

Mikoto nodded and raised his left hand, palm upward. A faint red aura raised from the red-haired teacher. Immediately, a dozen of fireballs floated all over him and the bar, some hanging dangerously close to Yata.

Yata screamed.

Loud.

_In wonderment._

“Awesome! What, what is this magic trick? Cool!! So cool!”

Kusanagi slammed a palm over his face while Mikoto just stretched his lips in a poor attempted half-smile.

Anna glanced back and forth at Yata and Mikoto, then nodded her head at the latter. The fire began to die down very gradually, much to Yata’s disapproval.

“So, how is it, Anna – chan? You don’t usually make such a flashy show.” The English teacher gave an easy smile.

The little girl put her red marble down, speaking in quiet but clear voice. “Misaki has shadows behind him. Mikoto’s flame can make them fade, but they’re still lingering there. On the other hand...”, Anna pursed her lips as if to try to find the right words, “...somehow, they also stirs up some shadows behind Mikoto.”

“What are you talking about?” Yata frowned in confusion, looking over his shoulders. He saw nothing but his own ordinary shadow.

Kusanagi interrupted. “What? That is bad, right?”

“I don’t know”, Anna shook her head lightly, “but he is the key point, the only one who is in-between. He can change everything, though a good or a bad ending will not be for us to decide.”

Yata looked at her blankly, trying to digest whatever she’d just said. “Are you playing insane hard riddles or something?”

A low laugh came out of Kusanagi’s throat. “No, Yata, she’s taking a glimpse at your fate.”

“....hah?”

“I did tell you Homra is a supernatural phenomena study club only on paper, right? The truth is, we’re the supernatural phenomena themselves. In other words, we Homra members have abnormal abilities, some of which can even be considered superpowers.”

 _No fucking way. For real?_ “Th-then the fireballs, Mikoto – sensei, and, and...?”

“That’s right. Mikoto can produce flames, Anna can sense all sorts of thing regarding to people’s fate – as vague as it sounds. And I’m able to detect whether someone is lying.”

Yata gasped in awe. He didn’t see this coming. He wouldn’t even believe it, deemed it a lame joke, if not for the fact that he had just talked to a ghost yesterday. But still, suddenly be told that a group of people have superpowers was a surreal experience.

Mikoto snorted and waved a hand at Yata in lazy manner as always. “Don’t be so shocked. You have a weird ability too.”

“Er, me?”

“You can see spiritual creatures, or at least ghosts, correct?” said Kusanagi, with a hint of sadness in his voice.

_They knew !? How? Was it because I keep asking about Fushimi? Guess there’s no reason to hide anymore. Things just get crazier and crazier._

“Yes...”

“It’s not true.” Anna suddenly announced, making everyone jointed. “You don’t always see the spirit world.”

“Well, you’re right. I’m just a normal person for almost all my life. I think I’d never seen a ghost before Fushimi... I wonder why I can see him?”

Mikoto narrowed his eyes. “Fushimi? Where?”

“At the elevator in the A building, sir.”

“The elevator...”, the blond teacher murmured, “The haunted one in rumors? Of course. Why didn’t I think of it...”

“Then, where did you see Tatara?” Mikoto asked again. Yata wasn’t sure the soft tremble in his tone was due to sadness or anger.

“I met him at the elevator too when he was using it at the same time as me. Totsuka - san seems like a nice guy, I’d like to meet him again! Ohh, he’s a member of Homra, isn’t he? What’s his power?”

The three Homra members looked stunned, then slowly turned their gaze down as dark expressions climbed to their face.

Mikoto took a cigarette out and lighted it with a swift snap of two fingers. “You don’t know, huh. Well, he wasn’t here anymore.”

Anna squeezed the red-haired man’s hand. “Mikoto. You’re wrong. Tatara often comes. You just don’t know.”

“That guy sure is weird. What the point of coming back here...”

“Uhm...Did Totsuka – san and Homra have a fall out?” Yata tried his luck again.

“He – “

“Mikoto.”

The name was called in a warning tone, signaling that Kusanagi wanted to shield the information. _Oh come on...Not only Fushimi, but Totsuka is full of secrets too?_

The Homra vice – president picked up the conversation. “Totsuka is one of Homra’s founders, along with me and Mikoto, even though he doesn’t work for Ashinaka school. He is a neutralizer, which means he can neutralize many other abilities. He holds position as Homra’s HMR, but it’d be more correct to say he’s an emergency fire-extinguisher or a beast tamer.”

Kusanagi smiled when Yata was about to ask more. “Now back to Fushimi. I believe you want to hear about him?”

“Yes! Yes please!”

“On paper, Fushimi was an orphan that got Munakata Reishi as his guardian. However, the truth was he ran away from an abusive home when he was only 13, showed up at the center library and asked for a job and a shelter. He did a good job at literally everything and peaked the interest of Munakata, who was a frequent guest. They had quite a history of pushing each other around until Fushimi finally gave in and allowed Munakata to take care of him.”

Mikoto chimed in. “Enjoy teasing a 13 year old boy. And that guy keeps saying about justice.”

“Don’t make it sound like that... Anyway, after Fushimi enrolled in the school for a while, Totsuka figured out that he had abnormal potential. At first we thought it was a Munakata - like trait, being genius. Ah right, before we had thought Munakata had ability of prediction, but it turned out he’s just so smart that he could practically see all the possible outcomes. But Fushimi’s ability was different, very vague and very unstable, even Anna couldn’t put a finger on it.“

Kusanagi scratched his chin for a few seconds to find the right words.  

“To put it simply, it depends on the strength of his mind. If Fushimi truly, absolutely believe in something within himself, it has a chance to come true. For example, if Fushimi tells a lie and absolutely 100% believes his lie, my lie-detecting power would mistake it for the truth. When he believes he can do something, like winning over stronger opponents or getting pass way too difficult problems, he may archive it through an unnatural boost of energy. Once time, Fushimi was trapped in the library’s warehouse for a whole week, and while we’re worried sick, when we finally found him Fushimi had read nearly all the books in presence and thought it’s only just a few hours. No trace of starvation, dehydration, or sleep driven.”

 _Sounded awesome. Weird but awesome._ “So if he thinks he can fly, he can really fly?”

The English teacher sighed and face palmed again. “No. There’s a limit for what one can do. Also it seems like his power only works unconsciously.”

“Oh...” Yata pouted. He pondered on what he should ask next, knowing that touching the subject of Fushimi’s death would only be brushed off, for whatever the silence policy was.

Anna seemed to read his thoughts when she suddenly raised her voice. “Are you wondering why you could see Saruhiko in the elevator?”

 “Ah, that’s right! It bothers me so much. Do you know why?”

The white-haired girl nodded. “The shadows behind you, they’re the warning of death. People can see things clearer the closer they are to them. You can see him probably because of the combination of hidden spiritual ability, being in a place with a strong connection with the dead, and being close to death yourself.”

“......I...I’m going to die...?” _What have I gotten myself into._

Anna touched his hand gently, her downcast eyes trembled a bit, but still filled with determination.

“I don’t know. When the time comes, it’ll depend on both you and Saruhiko.”


	4. Chapter 4

_“Don’t you think the world is so tedious and unfair?”_

_A boy was laughing and dancing around in circle. His face was blurred to the point he looked like a no-face ghost. The only distinguishable features of him were his snow white hair and a crooked grin._

_“Neh, neh, I have this amazing idea. Let’s destroy the world together. If you want to, you can do it, right?”_

_Shut up._

_“You hate him. You hate them. You hate, hate, hate, just like me, you’re full of hatred.” A voice full of malice, laughter full of insanity. “What’s the point?”_

_He tried to block the unwanted noises out of his head. Shut up. Shut the fuck up._

_The white-haired boy jumped on a table, humming an unfamiliar melody and swirling on a leg like a ballet dancer._

_“The sun is bright today. It’s irritating, isn’t it?. Let’s kill the sun, neh? I drowned the sun yesterday yet it comes back today again. So stubborn, so arrogant! It must be killed!”_

_A flash of chaotic movements and he startled to find himself fall out of the chair, be hanged in mid-air by a strong clutch on his right upper arm. He could even hear the tell-tale sounds of his bones being dislocated._

_“ Come on, I’ll show you how to kill the sun.”_

_He was pulled forward against his will, by such force of a wild beast. Pain shot through his wrist to the very last hair on this nape. Wobbling legs barely kept him stumbling along. The world faded in and out, filled his eyes with a suffocating dizziness._

_The crushing grip suddenly released and he fell down, collapsing on the floor as there was no energy left in him to move. The other boy poked his cheek and pulled him up, forcing his head to the right, where the school’s pool was._

_“See, the sun died here yesterday.”_

_In the shallow pool, the water was pitch black and terribly stinking. The sun’s reflection was, indeed, imprisoned inside the disgusting mixed liquid made from everything nasty and sickening. It was blinded, was robbed of its light, was deformed into an distorting murky circle. It flickered, barely struggled beneath the surface of the nefarious water tank._

_“Such a fun game, such a great crime, don’t you think so? Ten bottles of black ink, mixed with salt and tar and petroleum, and the sun will be choked in this filthy, smelly abyss. Its skin will be tainted, hissing in pain as the poison gnaws it to the core. Oh, how spectacular!”_

_Sick._

_He felt so sick he could vomit. His headache was stabbing him with thousands of needles._

_The boy gripped his hair and crashed his head down harshly on the floor. The additional pain made him almost scream out, if not for the immense effort he put in biting his lower lip. The world began to blur even more, even though he was granted a tiny mercy as the cruel hand on his head went away. Trying to blink his foggy eyes open, all he could make out was a figure picking up a bucket filled with dirty red paint and dumping it into the pool._

_“Die! Die again! Look, Fushimi, doesn’t the sun look like it’s bleeding? Tong, tong, tong, blood drops. Dripping red, draining of life. What now? What now? Oh, I know. See this? It’s an offering to the God of Death, praying for him to kill the sun. Rags, detergents, pesticides, trash wastes, torn stuffed toys, dead insects, and dead animals! What a fest!”_

_The black water tank splashed angrily as the mentioned disgusting bucket was thrown into it. The stranger laughed wholeheartedly while pouring cans and cans of gasoline onto the pool, then dropped some burning matches down. The flame flared up, devouring its so-called offering like a starving demon._

_“Ahh... it’s still there. So bright...so unfair. But it’s okay, I’ll kill it tomorrow too. As long as I live and the sun hasn’t died, I’ll kill it again. Again. And again. And again and again and again... ”_

_He trembled in cold sweats, feeling as if his soul was slowly ripped out of his body._

_A soft ring tune yanked him back into the world of consciousness. A familiar one. Swallowing the pain, he fished his PDA out and stared at the caller’s name._

_Pathetic. It wasn’t like he needed to be saved. In this state... No, he didn’t even want to be saved. Just go away, let him mind his own business. After all, he had already stepped a foot into an unreturnable territory. There was only one thing he could do to make the ending have the best possible outcome._

_It’d be nice if that guy sped thing up._

_“Oh? Who could call you at our fun time like this?”_

_“Shut up. No one.”_

_“Haha, couldn’t hurt to hear what it’s about, neh?”_

_The voice calling his name came out the speaker sounded almost concerned. So he instantly blocked the rest of the following words out of his mind. Buzzes and fizzes were what eventually reached his ears, dull as rusty blades, dim as sounds coming from underwater._

_“You have people worry for you...? Someone like you? Unfair. It must be a joke, isn’t it?”_

_“A joke.”_

_He felt it again, the burning hot climbing his throat. He laughed out loud to ease it, unaware of how similar it was to the other boy’s manic laugh earlier in front of the flame. It seemed like they were similar after all._

_“Haha, damn right! Ah man, I forgot to let you join the sun-killing. Well then, get to the main game, shall we? If you can help me destroy this disgusting world... I may finally get what I want.”_

_He felt himself being lifted from the floor by the collar around his nape, like how a baby cat was carried. He hissed to show his murderous irritation, fingers twitching madly._

_“Fushimi!”_

_He thought he imaged someone calling his name. Buzzed noises. He shut his eyes to prevent himself from seeing a picture of a smiling blond man on his abandoned, still connecting cellphone on the ground. His fingers felt a tad of sharp coldness, and he started losing sight of himself._

_The hellish flame was slowly dying down, leaving a dreadful smell in the air._

“That...”, Yata blinked at the bland ceiling of his room, “was really fucked up.”

Sitting up slowly and scratching his head, Yata tried to recollect himself as calmly as he could. Another piece of Fushimi’s memory, it seemed. He recalled the dream vividly this time, even though the blurred vision held him back from seeing the white-haired psychopath’s face. He had come to the conclusion that it was probably due to the lack of Fushimi’s glasses at that precise time – man, that guy’s eyes sure were bad.

Anyway, the fact that Fushimi had been likely to be tortured and eventually killed by someone like that made Yata scowled in bitter anger and pity. He didn’t know the reasons lying behind the killer’s one hell of a nutty show and Fushimi’s hostage (perhaps, or whatever he was forced to do there), but Yata couldn’t believe such a thing had happened in real life. It confirmed his assumption that Fushimi was surrounded by bizarre people and was royally screwed by life.

However, the dream was the exact push he needed, to be honest. After receiving Anna’s worrisome prophesy, Yata sort of had to step back to rethink about the meaning of the “curiosity kills the cat” phrase. He had asked what would likely be the reason for his death, but the girl had been unable to see anything further than what she had already talked. He had had half a mind to consider if Fushimi would eventually turn evil and killed him or something, but as Anna had poked him in the forehead with deadpan silence he knew it probably wouldn’t be the case.

He tiptoed around Fushimi and Homra for three days, talking nonsense and doing mostly nothing, taking the sweet time to consider the head and tail of the coin. Which he, admittedly, did a poor job. The ghost and the supernatural club were just so intriguing that he usually forgot every possible bad sequence and enjoyed hanging out with them (even if Fushimi was such a handful sometimes. Kusanagi also warned him to not mention Homra to Fushimi for whatever stupid reasons). At the end of the third day, he had nearly fallen back to his usual state of “ _Fuck it, I’m in and I’ll roll all the way_ ”, trying to forsake his linger nervousness and waiting for a perfect excuse to kick him into full vigor.

Now that he had another piece of the puzzle, he was excited to meet Fushimi again and charged head first into whatever troubles on his way. Besides, Homra promised to back him up to the best of their ability, and with Mikoto as his supporter nothing should ever go wrong. The Homra’s president only asked one thing to return: if Yata saw Totsuka again told him he was a stubborn idiot, which Yata noted as odd but agreed in a heartbeat without a second thought.

“Totsuka – san somehow is even more enigmatic, huh...” Yata mused. 

He recalled the photo picture on Fushimi’s phone in the dream. It was clear that Totsuka was trying to contact the poor boy. What a tragedy he didn’t make it to save him... Though Fushimi’s attitude worried Yata a bit – it was almost like he refused to be saved, and as if he had another plan going on.

_Oh well, he would get to it eventually anyway._

Yata packed his stuff, ready to go to school, despite the fact that it was Sunday. Who said he was going to study? He had a whole day and many mysteries to work on.

The night before he had wanted to meet Fushimi first, but now he had another destination in mind. He didn’t actually have a plan there, he just wished to see the scene of the crime through his own eyes, not just through some blurry dreams.

Off to the pool he went.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------

Warning: No Trespassing.

“Heh, they haven’t fixed it even after half a year. Where all the tuition fees go?” Yata stuck his tongue out childishly at the sign. “Clearly not be invested in making student’s life easier.”

Rubbing his hands like a protagonist going down to business, Yata estimated the height of the barbwire fence and looked for the best area to sneak in. He found a particular easy spot  with notable fewer wires and a convenient tree branch bridging the inside and outside the pool. Yata stepped two meters back, then ran forward full speed and _jumped._

The moment his foot touched the fence he twisted his body up even higher and grabbed the branch, using it as a support pillar as he lunged himself over the fence. The tree groaned, bended down under the sudden force, successfully helped Yata landed on the ground in one fluid motion.

“And ~~ 100 points for Yata!” That’s why people said good things come in small packages.

_...Not that he was small or anything. Duh._

The redhead took a glance to gather his surroundings. To the far left stood a small building, presumed where the changing rooms and storages were. The floor was dirty, the more scorchingly black the closer it was to the edges of the pool. Several Keep out yellow tapes stretched around it, a little worn out due to the damage of weather.

Yata was surprised upon seeing the water inside was not...dark. Sure, it was certainly nowhere near clean, but its current state was just like a usual abandoned pool, not the disgusting jet black he had seen in the dream. It seemed like the school had actually changed the water.

“That’s weird.” Yata rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “If they cleaned it already why it’s still out of order?”

True, beside the creepy burnt spots nothing really posed as a danger to the level of being under warning signs. What a waste of property.

Or it was on purpose. If Yata’s memory served him right, he had overheard a brief rumor somewhere about some students getting serious accidents in swimming class over the last semester. He hadn’t put much thought on it that time, but it might or might not be relevant after all.

Walking around for some minutes, Yata quickly got bored. He didn’t even know what he should do here. He took his time to find the exact place Fushimi and the white-haired boy had been, hoping to catch sight of Fushimi’s PDA, only to meet with empty ground. _Of course it would be retrieved..._

Yata sighed and sat down at the edge of the pool. So much for an impulsive investigation. Maybe asking Totsuka straight out should be more productive.

As he was about to leave, something shiny in the water suddenly caught his eyes. He couldn’t tell what it was, yet it pervaded an irresistible charm, almost calling out for him to take it.

So he did. Reaching his arm out and stepping into the water, Yata felt nothing but the overwhelming desire to reach the temping unknown object. The water was up to his chest, waving softly almost like a lullaby. He was going to grasp the mysterious item when a soft whisper touched his ears.

“Welcome.”

And then, suddenly, everything turned pitch dark and painful.

It took three seconds for Yata to realized that he was being drowned. A pair of pale hands were strangling his throat with insane strong grip. He gasped in suffocating agony, and the water poured in his lungs.

In the blink of eyes, on the edge of life and death, what Yata felt on his tongue was beyond this world. A burning sensation, fierily numbness took over his sense. It filled his inside as if he was melting. The water was literally breathtaking, as the most intense spiciness swiftly overflowed his lungs and stomach. No taste of plain water, there was only the taste of Grimm’s blade. That deadly spiciness cut him deeply to the very core.

_Could it be...I will die here?_

_So soon?_

_No!_ Yata feverously struggled, even though he was getting rapidly weaker. _It can’t be_. _I couldn’t die yet._

_There’s still so many things I want to do._

Using all the strength he had, Yata punched forward and bit down the hand on his neck as hard as he could, sinking half of his teeth onto it.

The offensive hands immediately loosed slightly. Yata took the chance to break free and kicked whoever was attacking him, conveniently using the reactive power to emerge to the surface. No time to rest, he swam with all his mind to the edge and clung to it just in time to feel a strong pressure on his ankles pulling him back.

“Fuck off!”

With one last powerful kick, Yata drove the attacker away and crawled out of the pool, coughing water out of his burning throat. Strength had left him and his legs felt numb. He growled, cautiously narrowed his eyes at the water, hoping he had enough energy to either beat the wannabe killer or runaway to save his life.

The water was swirling and darkening in an unnatural way, almost like someone was dropping ink on it and stirring slowly. There were some ominous shadows lurked beneath it, wriggling like slimy worms.

Yata waited with bated breath, but no one got out of the pool. The dangerous liquid gradually stopped moving, then eventually changed back to its original state.

Whatever had just attacked him wasn’t human.

“Don’t tell me...that crazy summon actually worked?” Yata gasped in shock.

_What the... Perfect school my ass. Please put a limit to this madness._

With a heavy sigh, Yata collapsed on the floor the moment he deemed there was no more danger. He didn’t even have a choice – his legs were as good as be cut off. Still, presuming the shadows were the summoned so-called God of Death, he must be incredibly lucky to escape alive.

It wasn’t until the adrenaline ran out that Yata noticed there was something in his left hand. Even in the chaos of being drowned, he unconsciously reached out for the unidentified shiny object and held it tight.

It was a rusty black dagger.

“...Hah?”

Yata huffed in frustration, displeased over the fact that he had just risked his life only to get a stupid old knife. Still, the alluring glow was still there – even stronger, so the redhead couldn’t help but examine it closely.

The knife was rather small and thin, possibly the special kind used for throwing. Partially hidden under the rust, Yata could see faint blood stain, which was weird considering it was sunk underwater for god knew how long. The handle was a little wobbly, more or less close to falling out. At the pommel, there was a small carved “F.S” in curt lines.

“F.S...Fushimi Saruhiko? That makes sense.” For the attractive power at least, Yata pondered. “Or not. Not a thing makes a damn sense ever.”

As he walked back to the school, Yata played with the dagger and thought about how this piece would fit with everything he had gotten so far. His best theory would be Fushimi used the knife to stab the crazy boy then threw it in the pool by accident. Maybe the psychopath threw it himself after receiving the attack. Either way, it would undoubtedly end badly for Fushimi...

The road was unexpectedly crowed for a Sunday morning. Yata withered slightly at the curious stares people shot him due to his drenched state. He must look like a fool – walking around wet to the toes on a bright day. He didn’t want to go back home and change, though. His mother would fuss over him and demand explanation. And he doubted his truthful reason would sound believable to her...

Yata was a few meters away from the school’s gate when a young man approached him. Judging his uniform, he must be in the special classes which only students with the best grades could get in.

“Excuse me. Are you Yata Misaki?”

“Yep.” The redhead eyed the stranger suspiciously. “What’s your problem?”

“I’m Akiyama Himori, a third-year student of Munakata-sensei’s classes. I’m about to contact you, actually. It’s pretty convenient to meet you here.” Akiyama smiled politely, somewhat taken back by Yata’s less than friendly attitude.

“What for?”

“Munakata-sensei asked me to deliver you this.” Akiyama took an envelope out. “He said please open it at home. That’s all.”

_The same guy who told me not to meddle with his business...Sounds legit. Who the fuck does he think he is?_

Being the rash boy he was, Yata tore the envelope right there and then, ignoring Akiyama’s startled yelp.

Inside the envelope was a card.

Yata recognized the simple black and white card was that of the most prestigious hospital in the city. On the back of the card was a phone number and a sentence: “ _Careful of eyes and ears.”_ Yata gulped and slid the card back, deciding to be a good boy for once.

“Eh, may I ask why are you soaked like that?” asked Akiyama with a concerned voice. “If you don’t mind you can lend you my spare gym uniform. I have it right here.”

“...Thank”. _Better than dripping water all over the school the way the road had suffered._

And that was how Yata walked in the elevator with way oversized clothes, kicking the door loudly as to announce his appearance. As a result, Fushimi groggily rubbed his eyes and gave a bored glance from where he was lying.

Fushimi yawned. “Nice choice of fashion.”

Yata pouted. “Shut up.”

“Tsk. If you run out of decent clothes to wear, just stay at home.” The ghost shrugged. “Don’t come here to bug me every day. It’s annoying.”

“It’s fine, isn’t it? You don’t do anything besides sleeping anyway.”

It was actually a sound argument. For the past week Yata discovered that Fushimi didn’t just sleep in the morning – he slept all the times (lunch break, afternoon, after school hour, pretty much at any chance Yata could sneak out). Although most of the time he found Fushimi asleep on the floor, it wasn’t much of a problem since the guy was a somewhat light sleeper. Normally a loud hello was all it needed to rouse Fushimi up, effective but unfortunately often bonus grumpiness. Waking the ghost up in the morning took a little more effort and double the grouch, as one would expect.

“I’ve been rather sleepy lately. I must need constant rests after dealing with your stupidity.”

“Hey! W-Well, sleeping too much isn’t healthy!”

“And losing my brain cells over you is?”

“You ain’t even alive.”

Fushimi rolled his eyes and mumbled. “Tsk. Still hung up on that huh.”

“By the way, Saruhiko!”

“Who say you can call me by my first name?”

“Mah, you mock my first name all the times. Whatever, look!”, Yata excitedly drew out the knife he had gotten earlier, “You didn’t tell me you could use knives!”

The knife gleamed a sharp spark under the elevator’s light as if it was giving its owner a thrilled greeting. However, Fushimi didn’t move an inch to take the dagger, just gawked blankly at it.

“Where did you get it?”

“I...accidently found it. It has your initial name on, so I thought it’s yours.”

“I recognize it, this is the first knife Totsuka-san gave me. I only draw it out in case of emergency which involves him. Just where did you find it?”

“At the school’s pool...” Yata scratched his neck. _Guess there’s no helping it._

Fushimi looked utterly confused, his eyebrows knitting together as he massaged his forehead. It seemed like he was trying to remember something important.

“Saruhiko?”

“I can’t remember. Why did I use it at the pool of all places...? Was Totsuka-san there?”

“Eh? Didn’t you use it to attack that psycho?”

The moment Yata’s careless words came out of his mouth, Fushimi sprang up with wide terror-stricken eyes. “Why do you know about Colorless?”

_So that guy was the Colorless that Kusanagi mentioned before?_

“Calm down, Saruhiko. About that...If I tell you I can see into pieces and bits of your memories in my dream, would you believe me?”

“...Hah?”

“Well yeah. That’s it. Duh.”

“Ah. That actually makes more senses.” Fushimi sighed, bumping his head back lightly on the wall. “You’re so weird that it shouldn’t surprise me anymore.”

“What the heck. I don’t know why but I think you should be the last person on earth to call me that. What’s exactly weird about me anyway?”

“Maybe the fact that you keep standing up for no reason, looking at nothing and talking to yourself? And ignoring me in the process.”

_Eh?_

The transfer student stumbled over his words. “Y-You can’t see the living? They come into the elevator and I just try to act like a normal person!”

“The fuck are you talking about? Nobody ever uses this elevator thank to the rumors.” said Fushimi, irritated.

“But...But! People really use it all the times! Can’t you feel the elevator moving? They often go to the thirteenth floor!”

Fushimi glared coldly at the redhead, talking very slowly as if he was talking to a four-year-old kid.

“Misaki. The only person who comes here is you. The only times the elevator ever moves is you controlling it. And this building only has twelve floors.”

Yata could feel his mind was going to explode, so he shook it violently in hope to throw some stupid thoughts out. “No, no, no fucking way. You just can’t see them. That must be it.”

“Tsk. Are you sure you’re not seeing real ghosts?”

Fushimi’s words dropped a bomb onto the other boy’s head, making his stomach twisting uncomfortably. He opened his mouth to say something, but the door beat him to it by opening so suddenly that he jerked in surprise.

Totsuka was standing outside, smiling.

“T-Totsuka-san!” Yata exclaimed, then turned to the dark haired boy and whispered. “It’s Totsuka-san. Can you see him?”

Yata didn’t expect the latter to crawl backward until he hit the wall. Fushimi’s eyes were those of a dead fish – blank and hollow and _haunting._ He trembled a bit, muttering so softly it almost inaudible.

“Stop it.”

“Saruhiko?”

“Stop.” His voice was getting franticly louder. “Don’t you dare joking about that. I...Totsuka...Totsuka-san _is dead. He’s already DEAD. DEAD!”_

Yata gasped, swirled around to find the blond man standing next to him with a sad smile on his face . Swallowing hard, he reached out a shaking hand – to touch, to confirm. Anything. Totsuka took the hint and stepped ahead, angling himself to direct the student’s hand into his stomach.

A terrifying cold ran through Yata’s whole body as his hand _went right through Totsuka_ effortlessly.

“Easy there, Yata. I don’t have time to tell you the last time we met, but it seems like you finally notice that I’m dead?”

On the outside, Yata was staring in speechless shocking, but actually a thousand things jumped all over his mind at once. What’s the meaning of this? Totsuka was dead – did it mean all of these strangers...?         

_“You have classes?” Totsuka asked in an oddly surprised voice._

_Dark expressions climbed to the Homra members’ faces as Mikoto said “He wasn’t here anymore.”_

_“Oh? It’s rare to see such a young kid here!”_

_“‘Tsk. Still hung up on that huh.”_

_“Being in a place with a strong connection with the dead”_

_“If you meet Totsuka, tell him he’s an idiot.”_

_“Why does it stop at tenth floor...?” The man in suit muttered confusedly._

_Anna shook her head. “He is the key point, the only one who is in-between.”_

_“You’re pretty unlucky, neh...”_

_“A kid who claims he’s seen Totsuka and Fushimi recently. Yeah, you hear it right.”_

_“Are you sure you’re not seeing real ghosts?”_

These pieces finally clicked into places.

But then, what was Fushimi?

Yata gazed at the boy in question, who was curling into a protective ball and refusing to meet his eyes. Could it be Fushimi was alive all this time? One touch to find out, thought Yata as he bit his lips in determination.

Mentally preparing himself for everything – freezing feeling, warm flesh, transparent going through - Yata closed his eyes and hastily grabbed forward, aiming for Fushimi’s shoulder.

“Ouch!”

“WAHH!!”

They both hissed, then stared at where they had made the first physical contact.

Yata’s hand was _half sinking_ into Fushimi’s body.

Not going through, not staying on the surface, but really half disappearing into the flesh, like how one dipped their hands in a shallow basin of mud. The feeling wasn’t cold nor warm, but rather plain as if he was touching a mere lifeless stone.

“Wh-What? Saruhiko, just what are you?”

“Get out.”

Fushimi’s confusion turned into frustration in fleeting seconds. Yata couldn’t even comprehend himself enough when the former gripped his arm and shoved him into the elevator’s door. As before, Fushimi’s fingers sunk into the redhead’s arm but still managed to make him move around. Totsuka silently stepped out of their way, observing with calm eyes.

“Wait! What are you doing?”

“Get out. Go away. Don’t ever come back.” grunted Fushimi as he slammed the open button.

Losing his balance, Yata fell backward out of the elevator. The rusty knife that he was holding for a while dropped on the floor with a sharp clink. The last thing Yata saw before the door closed was Fushimi’s pained expression as he slid down the left wall.

Cursing loudly, Yata jumped onto his feet and pushed the call button. _Like hell he would let it end on a cliff hanger like that._

A few anxious moments passed until it finally opened again.  

Fushimi was nowhere to be seen. In the inside there was only Totsuka.

“Ah, Yata. What happened just now was very interesting. I believe you and I will have a nice chat, neh? You may like one or two explanations.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the detective medal goes to SilverThunder. Yep, Fushimi isn't actually dead (yet) <3


	5. Chapter 5

For someone who was so determined to befriend a ghost, Yata had to take a painful minute just to look at Totsuka in the eyes without flinching. Actually, when he thought about it, the fact that Totsuka was dead had been so awfully obvious that it might even be the only clear-cut thing out of all the messes. He didn’t know what to do but to gawk awkwardly at the blond man.

“Don’t say anything, just come in here naturally.” Totsuka put his index finger in front of his lips, signaling Yata to not open his mouth. “You don’t want to attract unwanted attention.”

Hesitantly, Yata threw a cautious glance behind. Indeed, there were some random people in the hall looking at him all puzzled and distasteful. It looked like his little outburst before did him no good – _damn that monkey_. Luckily they eventually resumed whatever they were doing without approaching him. Yata stomped into the elevator before anything else could happen.

“Totsuka-san! Okay, an explanation is exactly what I need right now!” The redhead asked right at the moment the door closed.

“Ah, right. But first…” Totsuka didn’t answer immediately. Rather, he was looking around with a troubled expression, hands tapping the air as if he was playing an air piano. All of a sudden, something like electricity zapped among Totsuka’s fingers, making fuzzy noises and flashing blue lights. The elevator’s atmosphere tensed up considerably and Yata felt like almost being shrunk.

The weird feeling came to an explosive stop when Totsuka smiled and curled both his hands into fists in mid-air. The cramped elevator shook slightly like it was hit by a low-leveled earthquake for five seconds while the buzzing noises shot up several volumes. Then, from the space between where Totsuka’s hands stayed, a blue glow gradually formed into a round shape.

“Wh-W-What are you doing? It’s so cool, but!?” Yata stared, unable to close his mouth.

“Shh!” Totsuka shushed him. “Wait a minute, please. Thank to you, I’ve just gotten a hold on Fushimi. I’m trying to neutralize his power now.”

Yata confirmed that his brain was officially fried. He gave up on trying to figure things out on his own, instead looking at the glowing azure orb with intense concentration.

Inside the orb, electricity, sharp metal objects, and some unidentified things flared and swirled all around like a blizzard. A thin silhouette was flicking beneath all the chaos - Yata squinted his eyes to thin lines – a boy who was curling up.

“Saruhiko…” Yata breathed out.

“You really can see him, neh. Where is he? Point him out to me, Yata.” Totsuka said with a hopeful smile.

“Here.” Yata pointed a finger at the tiny tremble shadow a little slanted toward the left.

The moment his nail touched the anarchic glow, he felt a strong pressure pulled his whole being in as everything in the chaotic world on the other side froze abruptly. One spilt second was all he had to brace himself when an electric current ran through his hand and shocked him crashing to the wall behind. The noises also stopped all of a sudden, leaving the elevator eerily quiet.

With an irritated growl, Yata jumped back to his feet despite his hazy vision and numb limbs. In the very short time he was out of focus the images inside the blue glow had changed. A part of Fushimi’s back could be seen and he seemed to be in an elevator – one that looked exactly the same as where Yata and Totsuka were standing in. The aura surrounding him was tranquil, close to protective.

“Fushimi. Can you hear me?” Totsuka whispered, then continued upon receiving no response. “I don’t know why you are here, but you need to go back.”

Still no reply. Fushimi didn’t even move.

The blond spirit urged on. “Both you and I know fully well that you’re not dead. Fushimi. I am honestly surprised to see you here…I don’t know what I expected when I heard you’re in a long coma, but not this.”

Yata shifted uncomfortably by Totsuka’s side, unsure how to act in such a situation.

“Did something happen?” Totsuka insistently went on regardless of the stretching silence. “Or… Is this what you want?”

Fushimi didn’t look like he caught a word Totsuka had said. However, a subtle zap suddenly flickered around the edge of Totsuka’s tight fists, and by the look of it the ghost was in pain. Totsuka let out a small yelp and loosed his fingers just a tiny bit, yet the mysterious glowing aura instantly dissolved into the air, leaving nothing behind.

“Uhm…” Yata looked at the scene with no small amount of uncertainty. “You failed to contact Saru or something?”

“I think so.” Massaging both his wrists, Totsuka tilted his head forward the back wall, a wry smile worming its way to his pale lips. “That boy really never changes.”

“What do you mean?”

“Think of it as the closer you get to him, the further he withdraws away. As you’ve just seen, I seemed to cross the line. Fushimi doesn’t like it when someone gets a glimpse of his life – or his well-being, for that matter.” Totsuka sat down the floor, patting the space next to him as to signal Yata to do the same. “He must not want to see us right now, so he makes sure that we can’t reach him.”

“Gzee. That guy’s so troublesome, what even is his problem?” Yata let himself drop down heavily, creating a big “thump” as his back hit the wall.

“It’s a long story.” Said Totsuka. Yata frowned and pursed his lips, but keeping quiet since Totsuka had started the promised explanations.

“Do you know about the real nature of this place?” The ghost gestured around, implying the elevator.

Yata nodded with a small click of tongue. “Anna told me she this elevator has a strong connection with the spiritual world. Now saying this sounds very embarrassing… But it’s one of the reasons I thought Saruhiko was a ghost haunting it before…”

“You’re not entirely wrong. This place truly is a _“link”_ between the living and the dead. It has been existing for thousands of years, in many forms and shapes, depends on what takes its space. Form what I heard, sometimes it took appearance as a lake, and sometimes it was a chariot, a hole, or a bridge. It’s very interesting that in our time an elevator is accidently built right in middle of _“the link”,_ giving the ride to other world such a great modern look, isn’t it?”

“Ugh…” Yata blinked. “I understand, mostly, but what does that has to do with anything?”

“Sorry, I get a little carried away.” Totsuka gave a sheepish smile. “In term of traveling _“the link”_ , there are particular rules. One: the living can’t see the dead, or go to the other side. Two: the dead can see the living and go the other side for a certain amount of time, but they can’t interfere anything.”

“So that’s why Saruhiko can’t see you, or other ghosts…” breathed out Yata in realization. “But, wait, he isn’t actually alive, right? His body is…I don’t know, haft-way there. You said he’s in a coma, is it the reason? And why can’t you see him?”

“Haft-way there is a nice way to put it in words, good job, Yata. To be more specific I’d say Fushimi is stuck in _“the link”_ of the dead when he is supposed to be alive.” A sad smile twitched on Totsuka’s lips, making him appear older than he was. “I don’t know why, though. To be honest, before hearing you called Fushimi’s name here I had no idea where his soul was. What I tried to do before was to somehow break down whatever causes his unnatural staying in _“the link”_ and pull him back to the right dimension. He had been unconscious for half a year now, even Munakata is getting weary.”

There was something missing, Yata could vaguely feel it. While everything sounded true, it was almost like Totsuka left a single piece out on purpose. _Like, didn’t Totsuka say he neutralized Fushimi’s power?_ _Why said “whatever the cause” now?_

However, Yata chose to drop it for now. If Totsuka deemed it not fit to tell, let him be. There were still so many things to ask anyway.

“What’s the reason for his coma, Totsuka-san? It had to do with that crazy Colourless guy that you tried to save Fushimi from, right?” Yata twisted Fushimi’s knife around, trying to perform some knife tricks but failed miserably. The knife on his hand flashed a sharp reflection of Totsuka’s calm brown eyes. “At first I thought he and you were on bad term, but he appears to cherish this knife that you gave him enough. And you obviously care about him.”

“How much do you know, Yata?”

“Not very much, admittedly…” Ah. He forgot to tell the deal with his dreams. And everything in between. _Well, whatever_. “I asked people in Homra, but…”

Totsuka chuckled. “I bet that no one say anything to you because of some rules and such. Homra and Munakata normally don’t mind things like that, but you see, they’re forced to keep our story a secret in order to keep their lives going normally as well as keep Fushimi alive. ”

Yata;s eyes widened comically, his mouth hanging like a fish. “His situation is that serious?”

“What do you think? You experience it first-hand that he is half-dead.” Totsuka eyed him jokingly. “But I’m a real ghost and they can’t see me so it’s fine, neh? Kusanagi-san always says I’m the type of people who do whatever they want anyway!”

Now that Yata thought about it…why did Totsuka die? He was temporarily blinded by the mystery of Fushimi so he didn’t think about it.

“Won’t you tell me the whole story?” Yata said with way too confused but excited voice, bonus a bit of a guilty feeling because he really shouldn’t enjoy something like this, moral-wise.

Totsuka lowered his voice into a serious tone, accompanied by an unreadable face.

“Fushimi had acted a little bit strange around the time the accident happened. I can’t give you the details, but he was…not really himself. Then, he disappeared for two days – later we found out that Fushimi was kidnapped. We struggled to find him even with Anna’s ability and Munakata’s intelligence, eventually some clues led to a second year student in this school with self-claimed code name Colourless. Fushimi’s situation when I found him on the roof was terrible... he was injured, drugged, and practically shell-shocked.”

“That’s…scary”. Yata nodded dumbly along. So the event which his first dream took place was this. It explained the haziness and agony feelings in the memory.

“When I tried to free Fushimi, he kept pushing me back and yelled incoherent things. And then, the last thing I remembered there was that Fushimi and I were caught in the sudden shooting spree by Colourless. I…was shot in the heart and couldn’t make it…” Totsuka sighed and scratched the back of his head. “But Fushimi was a bit luckier as the bullet went to his stomach. Mikoto and Munakata went to the crime right on time to save his life, I think. He wouldn’t die by that injury, really, however for some reasons Fushimi hasn't woken up from his coma yet.”

The blond man continued when Yata made no comment. “I don’t know much about what happened after my death, but I can put pieces and bits together. It seemed like Munakata wanted to put Fushimi in a local hospital to treat him, however the school’s vice principal didn’t wa-“

_DING!_

Instantly, Totsuka stopped and Yata looked up when the door opened. Stood tall in front of the elevator was a rather tall but feminine-looking man. He has messy purple hair, aside from two sections on both sides that went just past his shoulders which were blue and in weird DNA shape. There was an old sword attached to the black belt of the man, partially covered by a long-tailed black coat. The stranger smirked down at him, looking like the very personalization of shadiness.

“Ah. I finally found you. Misaki-chan~! What an odd place for you to be.”

“What do you want with me? Who the hell are you? Cosplay freak?” Yata’s eyes narrowed. This guy had appeared for like three seconds and he felt irritated by him already. The timing was ridiculous, too. “And don’t call me by my first name! What’s with _Misaki-chan,_ it gives me the creep!”

“Touchy, ain’t you?” The strange man weighted his palm down the open button so the elevator’s door couldn’t close. “Usually I ought to punish a student if he doesn’t know me, but I shall let you pass this time Mr. Transfer student. You will call me Yukari-sensei.”

Yata opened his mouth to retort, however, he startled into silence when a chill ran through his arm. Totsuka had just shoved him – or more like tried to grab his arm but inevitably went through it. The blond man looked contentedly serene at the first glance, yet there were sparks of alertness in his eyes.

“Get away from him when you can, Yata.” Said Totsuka slowly. “This man is dangerous. He is the secretary of the vice principal.”

Yukari leered at the student, obviously had no awareness of Totsuka’s existence. “The vice principal wants to have a word with you. Congratulation, your great record has caught his attention!”

“My record what now?” Yata tiled his head briefly at Totsuka’s direction, indicating that he understood the advice. He was already in the position to walk out of the elevator and away from the creepy man. “I’m afraid you’re mistaking me for another student, Yukari-sensei. My grades certainly can’t impress anyone.”

Out of the blue, his way was blocked by a sword – Yukari used the long scabbard as a barricade to prevent Yata from advancing any further. Throwing a scornful glare at the man, Yata tried turning to another way, only to be blocked again. _Seriously, what the hell?_

“There’s no mistake, Misaki-chan. Don’t you think your little absurd relationship with Reishi-chan and Izumo-chan is pretty curious for others? I suggest the school’s gate is not the best place to exchange mails, neh?” There was danger in the way Yukari handled the sword, making it threatening even when it wasn’t drawn yet. The easy words coming out of his glossy lips were chillingly silky. “Come with me now, if you would, please.”

Under the heavy pressure of the stranger, Yata had a flashback of Munakata’s warning at the back of the hospital card. _Careful of eyes and ears._

Yata took a quick peek at the lift to see if Totsuka gave him anymore hint, but seeing nothing but a faint shadow wavering nearby there. He almost screamed in fear out of reflex, yet remembering that his spirit-seeing power was actually so weak that it only worked full-on when he was in the elevator. In short, he couldn’t see ghosts if he wasn’t in close contact with _“the link”._

“No.” Yata gritted out “I don’t want to meet the vice-principal or whoever just because of some stupid reasons like that.”

“I think we have a misunderstanding here.” Yukari’s eyes gleamed like a hawk. “It doesn’t matter you want to or not. Objection is not acceptable.”

 _Not good_. Turning Fushimi’s knife in hand nervously, Yata had half a mind to make a sortie toward the exit. He didn’t really know how to handle a knife, though – he was more of a punch-and-beat guy. However, facing someone like this purple man definitely required a weapon.

“That’s a beautiful knife, but I don’t think you will do it justice, Misaki-chan.””

Yukari smiled, and with an agile twist of the sheathed sword, he flicked the knife out of Yata’s hand. The dagger dropped down with a sharp clank, rotating a few rounds while sliding across the floor. The sound of metal clashing with tiled hall made Yata’s hair on the nape stood up. Yukari took the chance to close the distance between him and Yata, a hand rising as if he was going for Yata’s throat.

_Shi-_

“!!”

Abruptly, without warning, a flame burst right in front of Yata’s eyes, missing Yukari’s fingers by only a few centimeters. The bizarre interruption made Yata shout and jump back, yet Yukari didn’t even look surprised. The latter just shrugged and turned half-heartedly to face the new comer.

“Always the charming hero, Mikoto-chan. Though, it’d be better if you don’t breathe fire in the school’s ground. People should pay money to see such a show in the circus, don’t you think?”

“Hm…said an old man who was swinging a sword around.” Mikoto sighed nonchalantly, kicking the fallen knife up so it bounced to the air and caught it with a single smooth movement. While his expression showed nothing but utter boredom, there was fire licking at the edges of his body frame, especially heavy at the tips of his red hairs.

Yata immediately ran to Mikoto’s side, thoughtlessly showing his excitement andadmiration. Yukati’s eyes narrowed a tiny bit as a wicked smile bloomed on his lips.

“My, how cute. I see you’ve got a little puppy. Are you telling your puppy to, perhaps, sniff and dig something under the dirt?”

Yata snarled at Yukari, furious for a good reason even if it made the taunt seemed quite close to the target. On the other hand, Mikoto just snorted like he couldn’t care less.

“Heh. Then I’m going to let him have a walk.”

 _Ugh. Mikoto-san…that’s quite a low blow._ Yata wanted to whine but refrained himself.

The purple-haired man gave a mocking sigh. “I’m afraid you will have to leave it for another time.” He drew the sword and pointed it straight to Mikoto, the blade gleaming dangerously. “Our little boy here already had an appointment with Nagare Hisui, the vice principal.”

“Hahh…So?” The red-haired man didn’t move an inch.

“If something has the potential to harm Ashinaka school, Hisui-chan will take care of it. You know it well, don’t you?”  

“Ah. I probably know.” The corner of Mikoto’s mouth raised a bitty fraction, forming a callous smile. Even though his eyes went cold, wild red flame started to spread all over his body. The fire gathered strongly at the palm of his right hand, so powerful that Yata could feel the heat even a meter away. “…And I don’t give a damn.”

Putting a thoughtful face on, Yukari lowered his sword very slowly. It seemed like he was considering what would be the best thing to do in this intense situation. Mikoto was sure as hell ready for a fight and wouldn’t back down no matter what. Yata certainly wouldn’t give in either. However, they were still at the school – in a building, even – fighting with sword and supernatural fire would be real bad.

At last, Yukari clicked his tongue and sheathed the sword. “Interesting. I’ll let it slide just this time. Misaki-chan, see you later, neh? Don’t run around so much, or a little monkey may suffer more than he already is~” Then he walked away, waving hand contentedly without looking back.

Yata jerked upon hearing the threat, but Yukari had already disappeared around the corner. He glanced at Mikoto in order to clarify what it meant exactly, only to jump back a few steps because the fire surrounding Mikoto was getting rapidly stronger and hotter. The floor began to turn black under his feet.

“M-M-Mikoto-san?”

Mikoto was like a human torch. He closed his eyes and breathed slowly, head in hands, eyebrows furrowing deep with such an unfamiliar exhausted expression. Shutting down, that was what it looked like.

Yata fumbled with his PDA, figuring he should probably call Kusanagi for help. He was about to hit call when something odd happened. First, there were melodic sounds softly rang in the air, muffled and faraway like a siren song played underwater. A few seconds later, Mikoto’s flame was slowly extinguished, fading and transforming into small floating flickers of fire. In fact, when Yata got a closer look, their shapes looked similar to butterflies.

“…That guy is here, isn’t he?” Mikoto sighed. There was no trace of flame anywhere on him anymore. “Tatara.”

“Ah! Yes! Totsuka-san is right next to us, probably! I couldn’t see him here, though. My vision worked best when I’m in the elevator.”

“Hm.”  Mikoto strolled to the lift, staring at the red number above the door. Yet he didn’t push the button to open it, just stood there quietly. “I can’t see anyway.”

But Yata saw him. The wane spirit of Totsuka.

With a very, very sad smile, Totsuka embraced the older redhead from behind. His hands went through the latter, making the loose embrace all the more remind them of the different worlds they were being in.

“Idiot.” Mikoto whispered.

“Yeah.” Totsuka hung his head low. “King.”

A single flame butterfly floated out of Mikoto and landed on Totsuka’s head. Still, the former didn’t seem to acknowledge any of that. It crushed Yata’s heart, but he couldn’t say anything to Mikoto – scared that he would break such a beautiful moment.

Ironically, Mikoto was the one who broke it. Cruelly so.

“Let’s go, Yata.” He turned, going right through Totsuka and heading to the exit.

“…Yes, Mikoto-san.” Sending a sympathetic brief look to Totsuka, who was now just a faint shadow, Yata followed the gym teacher with hurried steps.

“Tell me about this knife.” Mikoto said once they were out of the school and into a car. Apparently he still held Fushimi’s knife – Yata had forgotten about it. “And everything Tatara told you. More, if you can.”

Puzzled but excited, Yata processed to say the whole story. The dreams, the accident at the pool, the hospital card that Munakata gave him, and the explanations of Totsuka. It took quite a long time, and Mikoto did nothing but nodding every once in a while, eyes on the road. As Mikoto had said, they were going to Shouhei’s house – whoever he was. He called Kusanagi before, saying they had got a good item that needed the abilities of some other Homra members.

When Yata finished, Mikoto asked only one question.

“Hm…be shot in the heart by Colourless. That’s what he said, huh?”

“Yes. I can’t believe it, it’s so… gzee, terrible!”

“However, despite his appearance,” Mikoto sighed, “Tatara always has a bone of a liar.”

“Ehh?”

“Sometimes he lies. Sometimes he just doesn’t tell the whole truth.”

A moment of silence passed, as if the Homra president was being cautious of the rules, but then he shrugged and spoke again.

“There’re two injuries on Totsuka which caused his death. One was a shot at the heart. And the other…”, he glared at Fushimi’s knife, “…was a stab at the stomach.”

Yata’s eyes widened.

“I saw it…when I was still on the ground trying to look at what was happening on the roof. Fushimi was the one stabbed Totsuka.”


	6. Chapter 6

“But that’s impossible.” Yata groaned in disbelief. “I found this knife in the pool. If Saruhiko stabbed Totsuka in the roof, it couldn’t be there, right? Unless he used a different knife – but Saru said he only drew this special knife when Totsuka was involved… so…so…eh?” He scratched his cheek, finding holes in his argument. The abrupt piece of information was clashing with everything he knew and believed in. He was certain that Fushimi had stabbed Colourless to defense himself at the pool – there was no other logical deduction.

“Anyway, Saru had no reason to attack Totsuka-san!” He finished lamely.

““I know “, Mikoto just sighed. “Something fishy must have happened.”

At least it was comforting that the teacher knew Fushimi wouldn’t just stab Totsuka. Yata nodded in all of his glory dumbness. Examining the rusty dagger again, he tried to think of a possible answer, so hard that he could practically feel smoke rising off his head.

“…Don’t push yourself. We’ll find out soon.” Mikoto gazed at him lazily. “Shouhei has a convenient ability.”

“Is that so, Mikoto-san? What is it?”

“Hm…” Mikoto turned the car to the left, going into a narrow winding path. The trees by the side road were old and oddly green – the kind of green you would expect to see in a sun-loved field, not in a busy city. Rocks and stones lying around made the ride rather bumpy. “He can read the information buried in an object.”

Yata frowned. That sounded very ambiguous to him.

“Hah…You’ll understand when you see it.” The car slowed down and stopped in front of a small, poor-looking house. It was dirty grey in colour and cracked at some edges, all the way to the second floor, with mosses here and there as if they were the decoration. When Mikoto nodded and came out of the car, Yata followed like a little puppy.

Anna greeted them at the door. The young girl in frilled scarlet dress took one single glance at Mikoto then hastily pulled out a marble, raising it to her left eye.

“Mikoto. Your shadows are getting darker.”

Mikoto patted Anna’s head on the way he passed her. “Ah. Shouldn’t surprise by now.”

Anna’s doll-like eyes trembled a little, just as a gray curtain of sadness filled her face. The moment didn’t last long, though, for she turned her gaze upon Yata, red marble still in its place.

“Yours are still there.” The sadness wormed its way into her voice, too. Yet there’s hope in the way she narrowed her eyes. “Howbeit, they’re moving restlessly. Your fate is not settled.”

It was Yata’s turn to smile and patted her on the shoulder. “I’ll be just fine! I’ve lived a good life so I probably won’t meet my end that soon!”

Anna gave him a tiny little smile. Pulling Yata’s wristband, she guided him into the living room. It was a small and cozy, full of cheap secondhand items and smartly recycled stuff. A group of people were sitting around a wooden coffee table since there was no chair or couch.  Kusanagi and Mikoto were talking with a serious expression – well, Mikoto’s still somewhat leaned on the listless side. Three boys, who must be the other Homra members, were listening attentively.

The brown-haired boy noticed Yata and Anna coming in and stood up in short order, smiling all too friendly. “So you’re Homra’s newest member? Nice to meet you! I’m Shouhei Akagi, class 11-E.” He pointed to the hooded sunglasses-wearing boy next to him. “This is Bandou Saburouta, my childhood friend, we’re in the same class.” He waved the blonde boy who was staring at Yata distastefully. “And this is Eric Suruto, class 10-C.”

Yalta smiled brightly back and gave a brief introduction of himself. The boys gave off a rough-edged vibe just like Yata, which suggested they should be street brats at some points of their life. They hit it off quite nicely, even though Erik and he clashed a bit due to the blonde’s irritable attitude.

Some minutes later, Kusanagi clapped his hand, effectively drawing everyone’s attention to him. “Alright, I’ve understood the circumstance. This is no doubt the best clue we’ve ever gotten regards Totsuka and Fushimi’s case.”

Mikoto placed Fushimi’s knife onto the table. The dull blade looked almost innocent there, in a comfy small room and next to a cup of coffee.

The vice president of Homra continued. “Yata has found this knife of Fushimi in the cursed pool. Considering the blood on it, he must use it to attack either Totsuka or Colourless. We got into dead ends before everything we found on the scene didn’t give anything away, which I suspect is Nagare’s doing, however, I believe such a personal item like this can tell us a large part of the story.”

Eric picked the knife up and squinted at it. “But why is it in the pool?”

“Don’t ask such a pointless question. You’ll know when Akagi read it anyway.” Bandou shrugged.

Yata fidgeted in excitement. “What’s this reading stuff about?”

Shouhei stole the knife and played a simple trick with it between his fingers. “You know how people say about certain personal items can hold their owner’s memories and emotions? My ability allows me to read them. Not all, of course, I can only read the strongest memories, the experiences that the item is related to the most.”

Kusanagi nodded. “That’s right. It means Shouhei can see some parts of what happened to Fushimi through this knife. Though he probably has to go through his earlier personal memories first…”

“Well, I can’t skip it. Memories flow in a straight line.” Shouhei pouted. He put the dagger back on the table and hovered a palm above it. “Should I start now?”

“Forming a combo like usual, boys.” Mikoto ordered lazily from the side.

Bandou placed his hand on top of Shouhei’s, chuckling at Yata’s confused face. “Don’t look at me like that. I’m nothing special, just merely a transporter.”

“A what?”

“Transporter. It’s not a super power or anything, just that I can connect with other people’s powers because my wavelengths are super adaptable to everyone else. So I’ll connect Shouhei and Eric’s power now.”

“It’s all medical knowledge. I don’t expect you to understand, midget.” Eric cut the conversation off in an insolent tone, reluctantly slapped his hand over Bandou’s.

“Ah, you piss me off! Yeah, I don’t understand, but my height has nothing to do with it!”

Eric pointedly turned to another direction, ignoring Yata’s outburst. Shouhei smiled in his carefree way to ease the tension. “Eric’s ability is to create illusions. To be more specific, if he concentrates he can visualizes what he’s thinking. So basically, with Saburo’s help he will visualize the memories I read out of this knife for everyone to see, just like how a projector works. It’s incredibly great, isn’t it? X-men level, haha!

“Yeah, I guess. Okay.” The gears in Yata’s head turned very slowly as he stared at the joined hands. “So can you do it now?”

Shouhei was about to nod when Mikoto suddenly spoke up. “Count Yata in.”

“Eh? Me?’

Anna, who had been silent the whole time, pulled Yata’s hand on top of the already joined hands and said with quiet but unargued voice. “Misaki has an unusual bond with Saruhiko. You can reach deeper into his thoughts. Though it’s unfair on Saruhiko, it’d help much for him later.”

“I see.” Kusanagi scratched his chin thoughtfully, then also stretch his palm. “In that case, I’ll lend you a hand too.”

“Eh? Why you too, Kusanagi-san?”

The English teacher gave a brief melancholy smile. “Fushimi tended to lie to himself a lot.”

All five people sat around the table, hands on top of each other hovering above the mysterious knife. It looked almost like they were playing Ouija board, which was true in some ways - they indeed were messing with a spirit. When everyone was ready, Shouhei nodded and closed his eyes, a faint red aura glowing from his fingers. It grew slowly but steadily, moving toward the knife, then wrapped around it. Yata could feel a gentle tingling ran through the muscles of his palm. It was an odd but pleasant sensation, one that he didn’t mind having at all.

A screen-like image started to form in front of their eyes, truly like a projector’s work – or rather, a television. The screen buzzed for five seconds, then flickered into life as it began to show a figure – Totsuka Tatara, who was walking toward who seemed like a bloody bruised Fushimi. The angle is a little weird, it took a moment for them to understand that the view was from the knife’s perspective.

Out of the blue, an almost transparent string swirled out from Yata’s index finger and instantly shot into the screen. Before any of them understood what happened, their ears were attacked by various whispering noises and their chests were heavy with emotions that were not of themselves.

They were Fushimi’s.

_“My, I don’t take you for such a reckless boy, Saru-kun.”_

_Fushimi tilted his head back, gazing lazily at Totsuka in guarded silence. His whole body ached and stung as bruises and cuts spread all over him, blood oozing from the corner of his mouth and dripped from his knuckles. It felt good, admittedly, to let himself drown in a fight once in a while and forgot everything._

_Making a tongue click sound, he kicked an unconscious body of his previous opponents under his feet. “I’m not. Fighting is troublesome.”_

_Totsuka gave him an easy smile, despite being in the center of many bloody half-dead gangsters. Even though Fushimi was the one who caused this horrible scene, somehow there was a creepy feeling in the way Totsuka acted so calm and carefree in front of him. This man…was not what he seemed to be at the first glance. Annoying._

_“You said that, yet you defeated all ten of them with bare hands.” Totsuka looked over the nearest punk to him – a 6 feet bulky fellow whose head was hit quite painfully and jaw dislocated. “Unnaturally messy so.”_

_“I didn’t want any of this. But they were persistent. I was pissed off.” Fushimi gritted his teeth and walked out of the alley, careful not to meet Totsuka’s eyes. “They have done what they really shouldn’t.”_

_The wounds hurt. His eyes started to blur. There was a familiar sing-song voice in his head. What do you want?, it asked. The voice had asked him before, in the middle of his struggle. What do you want? – For the answer, I want strength, he said._

_Strong, be stronger. Strong enough to beat them. Strong enough to destroy what’s on his way. What do you want? How many times he’d heard that voice? How many times had that question been tossed upon him? He didn’t bother to count anymore. It had been swimming in the back of his mind for so long, so long, so long._

_What do you want? Now? Nothing. What do you want? Shut up._

_Totsuka strode up next to him, cheerful as ever as if he was just taking a leisurely walk. “These injuries look bad. You should get them treated.”_

_“I don’t care. They’ll heal eventually.” Why do you care anyway, he wanted to ask, it wasn’t your business. Go away, why were you still here? “Don’t act like you care, because you don’t.”_

_The blond man smiled, seeming unfazed by anything. Even his footsteps didn’t skip a beat. “If you let them like that, they’ll be infected. I don’t have much on me, but at least it’ll be better than nothing.”_

_Totsuka searched something inside the pockets of his black jacket, then pulled out a handful of old looking band-aids. Without warning, he pushed Fushimi down into a sitting position next to a tree, right there on the sidewalk. Ignoring the younger protest, Totsuka pressed the band-aids down on whatever cut visible to the air._

_“You’re really annoying, Totsuka-san.” Fushimi scowled. “You do whatever you want and never listen to other people.”_

_“Who are you talking about?” A brief joking wink was sent to Fushimi, which made his irritation got even deeper._

_“Tsk. Why do you even carry this many band-aids around?” Still, he sighed and relaxed just a little, letting Totsuka fix another cut. No use fighting this troublesome man._

_“I have some rough, clumsy friends.” Totsuka chuckled. “They often get injured for the pettiest reasons. There, all done. It isn’t too hard, right? You should carry some first aids with you sometimes, too.”_

_Fushimi stared at his treated hands. A weird feeling gnawed at his chest as a piece of memory flashed in his head. A boy whose face was dazzled by bright sunlight was giving him a childish creasy band-aid. He found himself smiling briefly at the memory._

_“I do have one.” He confessed, fishing out the old band-aid with an image of red power ranger on it. “Breaking through the darkness, a little sunshine gave it to me.”_

_Totsuka laughed lightly. “So you do have something you treasure, Saru-kun.”_

_Hissing low, Fushimi stood up abruptly. The pain and irritation came back full force at that single sentence. Treasure? Don’t make him laugh. He had nothing worth it. It was just something in his possession that hadn’t been destroyed. That was all. What do you want? The voice returned at the back of his mind. What do you want? What do you want? Just shut the fuck up._

_“Fushimi.” The name calling changed, indicating that Totsuka was being serious. “It’s alright to have something to protect.”_

_What do you want?_

_“What cheesy speech you’re pulling off, Totsuka-san.” He sneered._

_“You and King really are alike, even if you deny it.” Totsuka looked straight at him, eyes showing wisdom beyond his ages. “You have a great power. It should be meant for protection, not destruction.”_

_Fushimi curled his hands into tight fists. The words were like sweet poison. He hated it. He hated how it sounded like hope._

_“And what exactly should I protect?” He looked at the skyline. It was a beautiful sunset. “How should I even do it? My hands are not built for protecting things. They’re far fonder of destroying.”_

_“If that’s the case…” Totsuka tilted his head and smiled almost innocently, even when he drew a knife out of his belt at the same time. “…you should learn to know just when to destroy something to protect what you hold dear.”_

_The knife flashed a sharp light at him. A chill ran through his nape as he locked eyes with Totsuka.  This man…_

_“Tsk. Placing a knife into my hand?” He let out a low, mocking smile, and grabbed it. “You’re not only playing with fire but messing with a snake as well?”_

_Totsuka shrugged and turned to look at the sunset, as contented as a saint. “I just think a knife would suit you, Saru-kun.”_

_Bullshit, Fushimi thought, you just wanted to see how everything would turn out. The metal was cold against his fingers. What do you want? The voice mocked him. He clicked his tongue and ignored it, just as he ignored the aches on his body. For now, he should go buy a set of knives._

It ended there. The screen flashed and buzzed, moving into another scene. A different memory.  Shouhei whispered “Oh. I know this.”

_“Totsuka-san is so kind.” Shouhei talked to him when Fushimi was buying his morning coffee at the school’s canteen. “He teaches me how to use my ability better. Someone who’s that beautiful and pure-hearted should be an angel!”_

_Fushimi laughed outright until his stomach hurt. “Hah, that’s the funniest joke I’ve heard this whole year. Totsuka-san will laugh too if he hears it.”_

_And that was true, Fushimi giddily mused over the idea. Totsuka and angels, how funny. If Shouhei was talking about a fallen angel, then at least it held a little truth. That cheerful, friendly face of him really gave off a harmless aura, huh._

_Of course, what happened later proved his thoughts. Such thing was life, as people said._

_Homra was attacked by the local gang. How ridiculous was that when a group of teachers and students with super powers was challenged all the time by idiots. They really had so much free time playing around. Both sides. Heck, the fact that he had been somehow dragged in Homra was ridiculous, too._

_Mikoto wasn’t there today. Which, to be honest, was for the best. Despite being a teacher, that man was reckless and gave no fuck to the rules. Fire was helpful, but its damage to the school’s reputation was not a good thing._

_All went well until that weak, careless fool Totsuka managed to let himself be held hostage._

_“Freeze! Or I will break his neck!” Yelled the enemy, who looked like a frog in Fushimi’s eyes. People shouldn’t be that ugly._

_All members of Homra stopped dead, worry evidenced in their eyes. Ah, comrades, weren’t they?  Even Kusanagi seemed to be torn._

_What do you want? His mind asked. Fushimi just shrugged._

_To everyone’s surprise, Totsuka chuckled lightly just as usual, like he was reading a book or something. Tapping the tight fingers on his neck, he tilted his head up to the oppressor. “Haha, it’s pretty exciting to be in this situation once in a while. But neh, no offense, but you don’t really look like a killer.” His smile never fazed, eyes as transparently innocent as a curious child. “Can you kill me? How it feels to be this close to killing someone?”_

_Homra, as well as the attacking gang, shuddered hard into silence. Fushimi smirked as his blood also grew cold at the blizzard show. There it was, the side of Totsuka that rarely exposed to other people. It wasn’t something like the true Totsuka – rather, this was a fraction of his personality, it was always there, just waited for a chance to surface._

_“I always find the hostage thing really intriguing. Say, what are you trying to achieve? Hurt me so Homra can’t attack you? Kill me to show your dominance? Are you that bad of a person, though, I think? Have you ever killed someone? What’s it like, are you curious? Won’t you try to find out?” Totsuka tilted his head back more, exposing his throat, yet his eyes were strangely calm. “After crossing the line, breaking the highest rule of humanity, what would you feel? Hey. Are you thinking this when you catch me?”_

_“SHUT UP!” The frog-like man roared, disturbing fear in his voice. “I-I’ll really kill you, you crazy fuck! None of your Homra friends can save you!”_

_Totsuka still smiled. “Ah. So you’re trying to take advantage of my bonds with Homra? I should have known, it’s kind of obvious isn’t it? I wonder how will it turn out?”_

_“I said shut the bloody hell up!” Furious, the man gripped Totsuka’s throat and raised him up in the air, making the blonde choke and sway his feet high above the ground._

_Kusanagi shouted something, many voices roared loudly, but Fushimi didn’t hear anything. Pounding in his head was one single question. What do you want? What do you want? Ah. It hurt just to think. What do you want? Maybe he wanted strength, again. What do you want? Should he want speed to get over this fast? What do you want? He wanted to destroy that ugly man._

_What do you want? I want to save Totsuka._

_The unexpected thought jumped into his mind so fast and so stupid that he didn’t even think he was capable of producing it._

_Hah. Tsk. Totsuka, well played. Very clever._

_“So annoying.”_

_Without waiting for instruction, Fushimi drew out a knife – the knife Totsuka gave him – and threw it straight to the frog man’s joint when the right shoulder met his neck. In the split second when the man’s scream distracted everyone, Fushimi dashed forward with incredible speed and pulled Totsuka out of the loosen hold, kicking the opponent down the ground at the same time. He drew three more knives and threw them at the feet of the men closest to him, effectively pushing them back._

_Homra’s street brats immediately sprang into action, and the fight ended quite abruptly with the overwhelming victory went to Homra._

_“Well done, Saru-kun!” Totsuka smiled at him aftermath when no one was around._

_“You did it on purpose.” Fushimi scowled. “You’ll definitely end up dead someday.”_

_“Sorry, neh.” The blonde waved his hands in what was supposed to be a surrender sign. “But everything worked out in the end, so don’t sweat it!”_

_Have a little shame, please. Fushimi clicked his tongue. Holding up the knife that he retrieved from the frog man, he muttered in a quiet yet clear voice. “Take responsibility.”_

_Totsuka blinked before laughing outright. “I’m the last person anyone wants to force responsibility on, Saru-kun!”_

_“True. I hate you.” Fushimi sighed. And that was true, he hated this kind of person who knew it all and saw through the souls of others, who did whatever they want and didn’t give a damn about anyone else, who carelessly crossed the line and wandered into danger zones just for their own amusement, who had a big heart yet bigger selfishness… Totsuka, Mikoto too, and even Munakata._

_But not really, if he didn’t lie to himself, he would think Totsuka wasn’t a man who should be hated. “And don’t call me Saru-kun. I hate that too.”_

_“Haha, alright, alright, Fushimi.”_

_Even so, he didn’t really hate that smile, if he so much as admitted to himself._

Buzz. The screen flashed again, showing the next memory.

_“Happy birthday, Fushimi!” “Happy birthday, Fushimi-kun!”_

_Fushimi stared blankly at Munakata and Totsuka, who had just shot paper firecrackers at him. Homra’s bar was even livelier today, full of decoration and cakes. Besides the usual members, there were Munakata, his guardian, and Awashima, his landlady who also was a close friend of the former._

_A birthday was nothing to be happy about, he was tempted to say, but decided against it and instead just clicked his tongue in mild irritation._

_“Saruhiko, this is for you.” Anna tugged his hand slightly, bringing a slice of cake up to him on her tip toes. The cake was bright red and a bit sloppy, so it came to him that Anna had made this cake as a gift for him – probably with Totsuka’s help. “Happy birthday.”_

_“…Eh…Thank?” He took the cake very slowly, eyeing it with great hesitation. It wasn’t that he didn’t like the cake itself or he hated sweets, really. He literally had no idea how to act when receiving something like that. A knife, sure. A cake? It felt surreal, somehow._

_Even though Anna’s homemade cake was too sweet for his taste, he still ate it to the last bite._

_The bar was loud, louder than ever before since he was at the spotlight of it. How funny, he thought, because this seemed more like a giant joke than anything else._

_What do you want? He frowned at the voice. Now was hardly the appropriate time. Furthermore…It sounded somewhat strange. The tone was even crooked than usual…no, rather, it became more familiar… Where had he heard that tone before?_

_“Your head is in the clouds, Fushimi-kun.” Munakata handed him a glass of iced coke, knowing his childish preference for carbonated drinks. “Something bothers you?”_

_“Not really.” He shrugged, accepting the drink with the same feeling as when he had accepted Anna’s cake but didn’t show it this time. Munakata definitely noticed, though, if the way the corner of his mouth raised a little forming an amused smile was anything to go by. “Just thinking a birthday party is too unnecessary. Isn’t it pointless to celebrate a day when it inevitably happened already?”_

_“Is that what you’re thinking?” The guardian smiled amiably, the sight of it made Fushimi huffed like a stubborn child getting caught red handed. “The birth of an existence such as yours is very important, I believe.”_

_He startled. There was something so unpleasant wriggled inside him, half awaiting to sink its teeth into him, half burning him in smoldering fire. He wanted to laugh, but the laughter did not escape. It stopped right in the middle of his throat, making a nasty stasis sound._

_What do you want?_

_“You sure say such cheap things without batting an eye.” Fushimi averted his eyes because they felt stinging. “Are you a politician trying to win over some voters?”_

_“Oh ya, if I can win a vote from you”, Munakata looked straight at him without falter, just as he always had been, “I will certainly win the presidential election.”_

_“Nice speech.” He replied sullenly. It seemed like he could never win against this man. “I’ll give you a blank vote.”_

_What do you want? Tsk. Again. Just shut up and leave him alone. Couldn’t it see he was having a conversation? What do you want? Fine. He would just ignore it like always._

_Fushimi took a quick glance at his surroundings. Homra was lively and rough, consisting of mostly street rats who were shooed by the society and maybe their own family due to their unusual abilities. Those people needed somewhere to belong to and someone who understood them. As such, for them, Homra was a perfect small pretending home._

_And how funny it was that he certainly didn’t mix with their style of living, even though he was even lower than a rat. Fushimi was there because he had an unstable ability, because he was tricked by Totsuka, because he had nothing to do. That was all. Simple, but suffocating. Always an outsider, he felt that to the core._

_He could just leave, he supposed, yet at the same time he knew he couldn’t._

_Thank God Munakata was the one came to him first. Fostering was but an outward screen, it’d be more correct to say he was a special piece in Munakata’s intelligence force which could be useful in tight situations. Still, Fushimi felt better that way. At least the guardian had the brain to see the real world, not yelling about family and bonds every second._

_He sighed and gulped down the soda, keeping the ice between his teeth and bit it hard. The intense cold hurt his sensitive nerves up to his brain._

_What do you want?_

_W-What, he jerked upward in shock – In his mind, the voice drew out mockingly, full of malice and venom. And then, a laugh started to ring. Laughter, loud and twisted laughter, so familiar. He knew this voice. It was…_

_“I made you a birthday cake too, Fushimi!” Totsuka strolled toward him, a big bright blue icing cake in hands. “It’s my current hobby: baking!”_

_Fushimi gasped, eyes widening as his vision fell onto the almost transparent figure behind Totsuka._

_What do you want? The shadow asked. A face too similar to his own. A smile too scary to be called a smile._

_Niki._

_(Father. But the thought was so brief he didn’t even let his brain recognize it.)_

_What do you want? No, that goddamned man was too close to Totsuka. Dangerous. Dangerous. Be gone._

_Gritting his teeth, Fushimi drew out a specific knife and took a quick step forward. But in one second, his arm was gripped back quite painfully, stopping him dead in track._

_He blinked._

_Niki was gone._

_Totsuka was looking at him with surprise eyes. Mikoto was standing a little closer than normal to Totsuka. Most of Homra’s young members were standing up in suspicious caution. Seri and Anna were tensed. Munakata was the one holding him back._

_So much for the whole deal about trust and bond._

_What do you want?_

_“What?” He shrugged. “I just want to slice the cake.” And it was true. That was his intention._

_Kusanagi squinted at him, then sighed. “Even when you’re telling the truth, I don’t think it’s appropriate to slice a birthday cake with a dagger.”_

_He felt eyes on him - Munakata and Mikoto, always them. They looked at him like gods looked at petty, nameless human. Fushimi waited with baited breath, praying that they didn’t notice anything – didn’t offer him anything as stupid as pity._

_Munakata smiled, as if he could read Fushimi’s mind, and took a step closer to him. “I believe you would want to take your presents first. The cake should be handled by someone who actually has talent in this field, don’t you agree?”_

_“I don’t-“_

_“Here your present.” Without missing a beat, Munakata wrapped a long azure scarf around his neck. It was simple, but beautiful and warm. “May it protect you from the cold winds of cruel winter.” Giving Fushimi an all-knowing smile, the man finished his little pep talk. “Have a happy birthday.”_

_Mikoto patted Fushini one time on the head lazily and left a black bracelet there. “Ah. You’re fine.”_

_Fushimi just clicked his tongue and ignored whatever he was feeling._

_Later that night, the voice, the laughter, and the ghost of Niki came back. What do you want? It singsonged. Niki’s voice. Oh, and how he hated it._

_Fushimi crawled out of the blanket, out of the bed where Niki was sitting at the center of it giggling like a fool. He put on Mikoto’s bracelet on his right ankle, wrapped Munakata’s scarf several times around his neck and shoulders, held Totsuka’s knife tight in left hand, and finally, pulled out the crumble old band-aid and pressed it close to his heart._

_What do you want?_

_“Shut up. Not tonight, it’s a happy birthday.” He hummed, smiling. He started singing a lullaby for himself, one that he used to watch on TV, listening to his own voice to ease the unwanted noises in his head. “May you sail fair, to the far fields of fortune, with diamonds and pearls, at your head and your feet… Loo-li,loo-li,lai-ley”_

_Niki whispered “What do you want?” right into his ears, but he kept singing with closed eyes. “And may you need never, to banish misfortune, loo-li,loo-li,lai-ley…”_

The screen flashed again, giving Yata a moment to collect himself. Tears had gathered in the corner of his eyes as the loneliness and sadness of Fushimi gnawed at him. Most of the people in the room were affected too, yet no one uttered a word. The memory stream continued to move on.

_It hurt. Buzzing noises rang loud in his mind. The usual question was thrown onto him again and again and again. What do you want? What do you want?_

_He wondered if he was going insane. Noises and laughs and questions and Niki, everything was too much. He didn’t want this._

_Fushimi glared at Mikoto, who was having a clashing passive-aggressive conversation with Munakata. These two seemed to be always on the wrong end of each other, yet at the same time they shared an understanding that no one else could grasp. Munakata invariably had that look when he found something terribly interesting whenever Mikoto was around._

_Totsuka just smiled along the side, always the observer, with camera in hands. Filming had been his hobby for a while. “To save the good memories”, he said, “So we won’t miss anything.” It was fucking ridiculous. For a man of many hobbies and no attachment like Totsuka, the fact that he could let such words out of his mouth was gut-busting._

_Fushimi snorted at himself and walked away quietly. Munakata noticed and bid him goodbye in a voice suggesting that he knew there was something wrong yet trusted Fushimi to solve it on his own. Totsuka, on the other hand, followed him._

_Haha, what do you want?_

_“Smile, Fushimi. I need at least one video of you smiling!”_

_“No.”_

_“Come on, just one!”_

_Niki floated upside down above Totsuka, looking straight into the camera. Laughing, laughing, and laughing. What do you want?_

_Fushimi growled and pointed the knife at Niki – or at Totsuka, in anyone else’s eyes._

_“Insistent, are you? Go away.”_

_Blinking not entirely surprisingly, Totsuka tiled his head, unfazed. “Sorry?”_

_Hahaha! What do you want? What do you want? Haha! What do you want? Hahaha!_

_“SHUT UP!” He yelled though he couldn’t even hear himself over the strong wave of noises. He took a step closer, dagger still pointing forward. “I’ll really kill you!”_

_“You won’t do it – no, you can’t do it.” Totsuka smiled. “You don’t want to kill me.”_

_Breathing in and out heavily, Fushimi tried to control his mind as well as his body. Trembling from fingers to toes, he forced his hand to bring the knife down, eyes on the ground. In, out, in again. It’s okay, he remembered how to breathe now. The noises ceased ever so slowly._

_“I hate you so much.” He lied._

_“Ough, you hurt my feeling!” That pretending foolish smile once more. “By the way, I’ll delete this video, I don’t think you like it much. You should learn how to use this camera too, so you can continue keeping memories when I’m no longer around!”_

_…Hah._

_“Ask Mikoto-san.”_

_No reply came as Totsuka shut the camera down with a placid expression. Fushimi smashed his tongue over his teeth. “Sure a camera isn’t the only thing you want to leave behind once you’re gone?”_

_“No, maybe not. If I somehow died before King, I want my blood is kept in his ring, my bones are burnt to ashes and he will carry my ashes in a small bottle in his breast pocket.” The way Totsuka said it so calmly was haunting. “But at the same time, Mikoto’s fire is magnificent and I want to embrace that fire till the end, leaving behind no blood, no bone, no ash…There’ll only be memories.”_

_What do you want? The voice came back, loud and clear._

_“You’re cruel.” Fushimi breathed out. “So cruel. I hate this side of you.” It was the truth._

_Totsuka had a faraway look in his eyes. “In the past, someone did say I’m a cold-hearted person. Am I, now? What do you think?”_

_Fushimi held his head in one hand, trying in vain to ignore his headache. It hurt so much. What do you want? He really was going insane._

Electricity cracked around the screen as it blurred into yet another scene. Mikoto’s hand trembled very slightly, yet noticeable. Shouhei frowned a little, then whispered. “This is the last memory. It must be the one we need.”

_His body felt like lead on fire. Heavy, burning, and wasted away. He struggled to get air into his lungs as Colourless dragged him across the floor alongside the flaming pool. The drug was scattering his mind and boiling his blood. He saw dark red and thought, ah, what a cold colour._

_What do you want? Maybe this was the right time to want strength. Niki poked him in the forehead, laughing in the way children laughed when they caught a rare bug. What do you want? He just wanted to end this tedious torture, get rid of the mocking laughter and the ghost of his past. What do you want? If he had finally gone crazy and there was only one way to escape, so let it be. Let speed thing up._

_With all the energy he could gather, Fushimi hastily took out a random knife and stabbed Colourless arm. It was shallow, enough to draw blood, but didn’t deal much damage. The trick was done, though, as Colourless kicked him down the ground together with stealing the knife, pressing it threateningly close to his throat. His head was forced back, and all he saw in front of his eyes was the hellfire that was made to kill the sun._

_“It’s pointless. You can’t do anything. You don’t even really want to, do you?” Colourless grinned down at him, white hairs tossed up in the wind. “Oh! I know, I know, you want me to kill you right now?! That’s it!”_

_Fushimi growled. Colourless’s hands were icy against his feverish skin. Niki was dancing right above the flames, what do you want, he sang again and again like a broken record._

_Colourless weighted the knife down from his throat to his collarbones, just enough to break the skin and created a line of stinging blood. “It’ll be so easy to kill you. The world is just that merciless. Bam! Splash! And you’ll be gone! Will people even notice? Just like me, you’re in the background after all. The world is crazy, you should hate it, and you do hate it, don’t you?”_

_“Shut up. Who are you to control my hatred?” Fushimi spat out, still staring at the pool almost hypnotized, baring his neck like a sacrifice. He winced a bit when Colourless giggled._

_“Because then you will understand me, and we’ll have a bond like no other. With minds so similar, we’ll be connected by the thickest string.” The twisted boy stroked Fushimi’s face surprisingly gently. “With this, I’ll have what I want, even if I have to become a devil.”_

_“Hate the world. Wish for it to be destroyed. Wish for it to die, to disappear.” Pressing the knife deeper into his stomach, Colourless whispered into his ears while Fushimi squirmed to get away. In his struggle, the precious band-aid that he always carried fell out. “Oh? What’s this useless thing?”_

_No. Fushimi screamed right before Colourless threw the band-aid into the sea of flames. Burning, burning._

_Over and over. His world would always go down in fire. The ant hill, Niki’s fire. The house, Fushimi’s own fire. Munakata and Totsuka, Mikoto’s fire._

_Broken pieces of memory went through his tired mind. Being kicked. Being locked in the dark. Hope and despair. Father laughed – laughed – laughed – and singsonged “Oh, you can’t even take care of yourself, tiny monkey? What are you expecting? What do you want?” He had thought he wanted to disappear, until a little sunshine came and freed him. The light broke the darkness, so dazzling that he couldn’t even see clearly. “Hey, are you alright there? You’re injured! H-Here, I will give you this, it’ll help! Ok?” Said the sunshine, and before Fushimi knew it, he had been saved. Be found. Stay in the world. But his lovely light had to go too soon, not even giving a name._

_And now even the memento was burnt. Gone, along with a part of his soul._

_“Oh, it’s starting!” Colourless made a cheerful noise. He pulled Fushimi up and quickly dragged him away, meeting no protest this time._

_What do you want?_

_Colourless threw him into the elevator, letting his head smash against the wall. It felt strange here, frosty and suffocating. He glanced helplessly as the white-haired boy slammed the highest floor’s button, brain wasn't processing anything anymore._

_What do you want? He wanted this madness to end._

_A cold feeling crept at his nape as if a snake was coiling there. Colourless smirked down at him and, out of the blue, cut a line on his wrist._

_What do you want? He wanted this crazy guy dead._

_“Think about everything you hate.” Colourless murmured as he cut his own wrist. “I hate it too.”_

_What do you want? He wanted to know why he always suffered._

_The chill biting his neck intensified. Colourless pressed their bleeding wrists together, mixing their blood. Was it a dark ritual?_

_What do you want? Ah, fine, damn it all to hell_

_What do you want? I want the world to be destroyed._

_“You did it, Fushimi!” A drunken happy yell was the last thing he heard before the darkness consumed him. “I did it!”_

The memory was disrupted there, indefinable noises and fast flashing blurred images flit through the screen. Everyone stared confusedly at it, though after a few seconds, Shouhei spoke up. “No, it’s still going on.”

_“Fushimi!”_

_Huh… That was a familiar voice. Fushimi slowly opened his eyes. “Totsuka…?” Why was he here? What…_

_“Fushimi, come back to your senses!”_

_The urgent tone in Totsuka’s voice made him wince slightly. Trying to clear the fog in his eyes, Fushimi noticed that his body felt incredibly light, almost as if he was floating. However, there was an uncomfortable feeling rooted deep in his chest and cracked in his mind. One more second passed – he realized he was pinning Totsuka to the floor. A blood tainted knife was held firmly in his hand, hanging dangerously close to Totsuka’s heart._

_He jerked away the moment he recognized what was happening. Somehow, he didn’t have full control over his own body. It felt strange, like he was standing behind the stage to pull the strings of his joints._

_“Totsuka-san…what am I doing?” He asked, knowing it shouldn’t be any other question. He thought, maybe the seed of insanity inside him had finally bloomed._

_“No…It’s not you…Fushimi, it’s okay. I know you can never kill me.” Totsuka coughed. “I’m fine, I’m fine. You woke up just in time to stop the knife, see?_

_“Why?” He tasted iron in his mouth and bitterness in his throat. “I don’t understand.”_

_Haha, of course you don’t._

_He startled, eyes rolling back as he stilled himself to listen to the voice in his head. It changed. No, rather…there was one more voice._

_What do you want? So this was what you always heard, the source of your ability? It was pretty annoying, I give you my sympathy. Unfortunately, it’s time for you to be a good boy again. So this man makes you still want to believe in the world? Well, too bad._

_It was Colourless’s voice._

_Fushimi held his head in both hands and screamed. Hurt. It hurt. He was torn, was ripped out of his own body by the claws of the devil. His mind clouded, his limbs moved against his will. He felt himself laughing and saying what he didn’t think. “Let the last candle be stamped out.”_

_Fushimi’s body sprinted ahead, sharp knife aimed straight at the blonde man. Stop, stop, stop! Where was Niki’s voice? Where was that dreadful question? Ask! Ask what he want, give him strength, now!_

_What do you want? Niki’s face appeared right in front of him, smiling that signature twisted smile of his. Niki had caught him, and for the first time ever in his life, he was grateful._

_I want to destroy to protect, he answered._

_Blue electricity flared around his right hand, granting him the power to control it. With a sharp turn of the wrist in a fleeting second, he switched the knife backward and pushed his hand back aiming to his own chest. Get the fuck out, both of the devils, even if he had to pay with his life!_

_“As if I’ll let you. You’re my new life after all.” Colourless grunted, using Fushimi’s left hand to stop the backfired attack. Totsuka was next to him in a flash, tapping the air like he always did when processing the neutralization session. Hah, still the reckless man all the way through – couldn’t he see how dangerous the situation was? Stop trying to fix me or whatever was possessing me. We were both broken beyond repair._

_“You can do it, Fushimi. Everything will be fine.” Totsuka kept his voice calm, even though his fingers trembled as transparent worms flew around them and blue sparks exploded here and there. “Push whatever plagues your mind out.”_

_“You’re stupid.” He heard the words of Colourless flowed out his mouth like a curse. “You can’t just trust him when he doesn’t even trust himself.”_

_Knife flashed, and buried deep into Totsuka’s stomach. Red filled his vision – cold, cold, cruel colour. Once again, his hands proved to be the tool of destruction and destruction only. He briefly wondered if one day he might find out just why everything he touched would inevitably die._

_Yet, as Totsuka tapped the last note on his invisible piano, Fushimi sensed himself being tugged back. He could move now, just slightly, but it was evident that his body was his own again._

_“Hehe, it’s fine, don’t make such a sad face, Fushimi…it’s not a life threatening wound…” Totsuka kneed down slowly, pressing his bloody side. “I-I...Let just g-“_

_Laughter._

_Before Fushimi could even look up, a gunshot rang the air and Totsuka’s blood stained his blue eyes. He clutched at Totsuka’s heart where the bullet went through in utter despair, screaming loud. It hurt. So, so much. The noises were turning up louder and louder and there were not only laughter but also mocking, insulting, yelling…_

_Niki kicked him. What do you want? He wanted to say sorry to Totsuka. What do you want? He wanted to die. What do you want? He wanted to disappear. What do you want? I want to…_

_Colourless growled at him. “I was so close. So close…That guy ruined my new life! Die, die!” He shot again, missed Totsuka’s head for ten centimeters. Fushimi jumped to his feet and took the knife, throwing it deep into the white-haired murderer’s right shoulder._

_What he didn’t calculate was that because of the shock Colourless had received the gun triggered one more time, shooting him just below the rib. Bending down in pain, he overlooked the way Colourless was looking behind worriedly. He didn’t miss the sounds of hurried footsteps, though._

_Clicking his tongue, Colourless jumped over the fence of the roof and processed to fluidly parkour all the way down the ground. He ran full speed to make a safe escape – through the dark hall, turned right, the road led straight to the pool where he could sneak out easily._

_The fire had gone, leaving a smelling pitch black tank of water. Colourless laughed like a mad man, yet there were tears streamed down his face. He gripped his white hair painfully and mumbled incoherently._

_“I failed, again. Why? Why? I just want to be loved. Why does happiness have such a high cost? Am I wrong? No, it’s the world that is wrong. Love me, love me, damn all the rules. It isn’t  wrong.”_

_He ripped the knife out and tossed it into the pool, then left without looking back._

The screen turned black before disappearing completely. Everyone in the room stood absolutely still, trying to keep their emotions in check. No comment was made. It was just too heavy for them to talk about what they had just seen.

Kusanagi was the first to move. The blonde tapped his phone open and stared at it. “I had sent the scan of the blood on this knife to Seri right after I received it. It looked like she has got the results, hacking in the health ministry’s database on blood type and DNA and whatnot, as expected of Munakata’s close friend.”

He showed the screen for the rest of them. It was a profile with the top left picture of a white-haired boy – Colourless’s face, no doubt. Under the picture was his name: Isana Yashiro.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is absurdly long Σ(･口･) I know I said the whereabouts of Fushimi's body would be revealed in this chapter, but it gets hella long so I cut it to the next chapter ^^. Anw, please read and review!


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